The Devil's Mirror
by Pink Feline
Summary: AU-The story takes a drastic turn when Light is murdered. Even so his presence is not truly gone from the world and his hand can be seen in the events unfolding. Something is off with this whole situation and L finds himself with a new mystery. Yaoi
1. 01: Only Silence

**Disclaimer:** Pinkfeline does not own Death Note.

**AU** – A story I thought up while doing the laundry at work. Not meant to be refined, so the style will be a little choppy – I intended it that way. Will be Yaoi.

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**Only Silence**

There had been nothing immediately wrong. There had been no noise coming from the room, but that was normal. Light was generally a quiet boy, easily able to blend into the background noise if he so wished. Quiet and studious. The crack beneath the door showed that the light was off, meaning he must have finished his work by now and was most likely watching the TV on mute. Maybe even in deep thought, as he was oft to fall into.

Asleep?

No. It was too early for him to be asleep, but then he had been working on some case with his father. He did seem more tired, but again it was hardly unusual considering. Light had been back for three days now, returning to his studies at To-Oh University. He had been working hard these last couple of days as he caught up the work he missed. Light was so dedicated to his work and it made her swell with pride when she looked at what other young men Light's age got up to. Light never gave her grief as those other young men gave their mothers. No, Light was a very well behaved child.

Probably sleeping then.

Still, she just wanted to check, just to see her son's innocent face once more. He was growing up and soon would leave to make his own home and living. She had to make the best of what time she had.

She knocked at his door softly, loud enough to be heard if he was awake but not so that he would wake if he were asleep. She received no answer, yet her hand strayed to the door handle anyway. She felt strangely nervous, Light valued his privacy a great deal and perhaps would get angry with her for invading his little sanctuary.

Still, she just wanted to see his sleeping face, her little angel that was growing to be a fine young man. She just wanted to catch one last glimpse, one that she could store in her memory to be viewed in the years to come when he would no longer be a resident at the Yagami household but had a family of his own.

Softly she turned the handle and pulled the door gently. The light from the hallway spilled from behind her, into the dark of the room. There was no gentle voice asking the purpose for her intrusion, no comment or welcome. Only silence.

She paused.

She listened.

Silence.

There were no sounds of life, no gentle breathing from a sleeping figure, no movement. Only silence. The room felt chilly and terribly dark. Her eyes had yet to adjust to the gloom and the light from the hall was not helping.

Hesitantly she stepped into the room, her hands shaking slightly as she gently pulled the door closed behind her. The silence grew heavier. When she listened she could hear it, the gentle motion of air being drawn in and out. The sounds were her own.

"Light?"

She called his name in a breathless whisper.

No answer came.

Her eyes were adjusting now, and she was able to trace the lines of the room. There the desk, neat as always and the small television perched to one side. The deep hollows of the bookshelves, filled with various titles of a nature that she would mostly likely be unable to comprehend. She knew that his intelligence was of a higher nature than her own, higher than most certainly. Again she felt pride.

The moon lent the curtains a silver glow, swaying gently in the soft breeze that flowed, giving the appearance of something as insubstantial as a ghost. Still her eyes travelled onwards. The gentle curve of a figure, bare to the light of the moon and still cradled in shadows. Graceful long limbs, the long curve of an elegant neck and the soft gentle outline of his jaw. She had had similar features in her youth, the same lithe grace that her son now possessed. The soft strands of chestnut hair and his almond eyes watching her from the shadows covering his face.

His eyes watching her.

Her breath caught in her throat in surprise. His eyes were open and staring at her, unblinkingly and cold.

"Light?"

Still she softly called his name in a breathless whisper.

He did not react.

He simply kept on staring.

She moved closer in concern. Was something bothering him? Was he angry with her for entering his room uninvited? Why did he not speak?

A soft rustle, the curtains stirred by the breath of wind. Her own short uncomfortable breaths. He did not blink.

She neared his bed, her foot stepping into something cold and wet.

She froze.

Light lay on the bed but not under the covers. Turned on his side, legs pulled halfway into foetal position and his arms laying crossed at the wrists in the curve of his body. He wore only sleeping trousers and socks and despite the chill in the room did not shiver.

Did not move.

Still the cold liquid at her feet made her cringe and sweat nervously. Something was not right, and she was beginning to detect a strange odour to the room. Still her concern for her only son made her push such little observations aside.

She leaned closer to him as she reached the side of the bed. He did not move, did not blink and was staring at the door now instead of her. His eyes had not moved, she had.

The sheets beneath him were curiously dark; whether because of the shadows or something else she could not tell. The strange odour was stronger as she drew closer to her boy. The smell was familiar, sickening and brought with it an intense dread that chilled her to her bones.

"Light, honey?"

Her voice was a broken whisper now, cracking with the edges of panic.

He did not answer.

She reached out, her hand coming to rest on his cheek. It was ice cold beneath her fingers. Her fingers grew numb with horror, but containing it she let her finger drift down that elegant neck, searching for his pulse.

Her fingers unexpectedly plunged into soft flesh, cold liquid trailing sluggishly over her fingertips before she had time to pull back with a scream of terror. She could see it now, the dark gash that marred that slender throat. Indeed it was not shadows that stained the sheets beneath her son; it was his own blood.

She was unaware of her shrill cries, unaware of the fact that she was clawing desperately at the door; blood slicked fingers unable to grab the door handle correctly as her hand shook violently with fright.

Distantly she heard her daughter calling her name. She sounded panicky. Sayu was trying at the door, opening it.

No.

"No!"

Sachiko flung herself at the girl before the door could fully swing open. She was up before her daughter, flinging the door shut before pulling Sayu to her and fleeing downstairs.

The investigation headquarters were significantly more quiet with Light's absence. With Light gone, L had no one to argue with, no one to fight with and he found the change somewhat dull. Still it was a small sacrifice if it meant he would catch Kira.

As far as Light was concerned, he had been cleared of all suspicion and was free to return home and resume his daily routine. L himself had told Light that he was highly disappointed that Light was not Kira, but in the end the evidence concluded Light's innocence.

Naturally it was all lies and L was more intent than ever to observe Light. Now that the boy thought that he had managed to convince the team of his innocence, he would certainly return to his self-righteous duties as Kira.

Light would be cautious the first few days, suspicious and bright as the boy was. L had let him have a couple of days reprieve, letting the boy settle before the monitoring would begin. Light was not to know that he was being monitored, however, which made the operation tricky considering the boy's intellect and deductive ability.

It had only been three days and L was impatient to get his eyes back on his suspect. Even now he sat brooding, knees pulled against his chest in his signature position, a spoon dangling from the corner of his mouth. His eyes were half-lidded, deep in thought as he mentally scanned all he had learned about Kira thus far.

A call from Watari broke him out of his thoughts.

"There is a phone call for Yagami Soichiro"

"Put it through"

L turned his attention to Soichiro, letting the man's phone dangle between his fingers and answering it.

"Soichiro! Soichiro!"

The hysterical voice of a woman blared from the little mechanical device and he quickly thrust the phone back to Yagami.

"Your wife I take it"

Soichiro took the phone with no little confusion.

"Sachiko?"

His voice was deep, even and questioning.

"Sachiko, please calm down. What's wrong?"

"I don't understand, please Sachiko control yourself"

"Sayu……?"

"………………….."

L watched with a new intensity as he noticed the elder Yagami growing unnaturally pale very fast. Whatever was being said, it was not good news. L wanted to know what was going on. No matter, all phone calls were being recorded so he would find out soon enough.

When Soichiro collapsed on the floor, hands gripping the mobile phone until his knuckles turned white and looking distinctively shocked, L felt himself getting unsettled.

Soichiro did not speak, even as Matsuda had rushed to his side to help him up, did not even acknowledge the existence of the others in the room. Those words, fallen from the lips of his little girl, words that could not pass Sachiko's own echoed hauntingly in his mind.

"Yagami-san. If you could please explain the situation."

Ryuzaki's monotone managed to break through the fog that was clouding his mind, barely. He opened his mouth to speak, but words would not come.

It was as if the world had been pulled from under him and all he could do was fall into the darkness. Darkness that was without light. Life that was without Light.

Finally in a voice horse with anguish he managed to speak.

"Light……Light is dead."

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**TBC.**

**Read & Review.**


	2. 02: Mirror, Mirror

**Warnings: Mentions of blood and very mild gore. AU, Violence & future yaoi.**

**Disclaimer: Pinkfeline does not own Death Note.**

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**Mirror, Mirror**

The sight of his house as the car pulled to a stop in front of it brought Soichiro no comfort. In the last hour it had ceased to be home and would never be look upon again as such. Even now as he looked at it he found it to be a cold impersonal place that held nothing for him.

The lights were on inside, but it was silent and no movement could be detected from inside. Soichiro dreaded to enter dreaded what he would find inside. He was no stranger to murder and violence, but for the first time it was one of his own, his son, that had fallen victim to humanity's decay.

He did not announce his presence when he crossed the threshold but entered swiftly. He paused just at the entrance, his eyes travelling up the stairs that sat to the side. The lights were on in the hallway and upstairs and yet there was a darkness up there that had nothing to do with the artificial light. Something evil was waiting up there and it coiled tightly around his insides and chilled him. He did not go up the stairs, couldn't.

Not yet.

He had to find his family first.

His duties as husband and father were more important than his duties as chief of police. He had to get them away from here, away from this vile place. Somewhere safe, if such a place even existed.

Soichiro was beginning to doubt.

Soichiro remained on the ground floor, walking purposefully through the rooms, searching.

His family.

Where were they?

Were they safe?

Had the killer stayed behind?

Were they dead?

He found his wife and daughter curled up on the floor in the kitchen, backed into the corner of the counters. Sayu was tucked under her mothers' arms, her own tightly wrapped around the shaking woman. Sayu's hair hung loose over her shoulders and she was dressed in her night-dress. Sayu had been getting ready for bed when she had heard her mother's cries.

A profound sense of loss filled him when his wife's beautiful brown eyes found his. Light was born with his mother's eyes, that same rich golden brown that had made him fall in love with Sachiko in the first place. Their eyes had always seemed to be filled with an inner glow, both mother and son, which had been irresistible to others. Eyes that were warm and inviting, unaccountably deep and mysterious.

Now her eyes were red and glazed with tears.

They were empty.

Hollow.

The light was gone in those eyes.

Soichiro felt something inside of him break.

He moved to their side slowly, in their state of mind he would only do more damage rushing at them. When he got close he fell down on his knees and pulled them roughly to him; tucking his wife's head beneath his chin and letting his hands run soothingly through his baby girl's hair.

Tears immediately started to soak his shirt, his skin. The warmth of the women's pain was at once soothing and stressing. They were still alive, their warmth proved that and yet he could feel their sadness in the shaking at his side and in his arms.

They cried in silence.

Despite their tears, Soichiro's face remained dry. His face was expressionless, but the grief had already carved deep lines into his face that even time would not be able to erase.

Soichiro had to be strong, because if he weren't, his family would fall apart.

He would fall apart.

He held them in silence, giving what comfort he could, but his thoughts were on the room upstairs and what he would find should he enter it.

He pulled back from them slightly. Running his hands tenderly down his wife's face when her hands clutched desperately at his shirt, he let them go.

He had to take care of them.

And he would.

L had quietly entered the house behind the elder man but had not hesitated to ascend the stairs. Soichiro had gone in search for his family, leaving L to his own devices. Due to his surveillance of the Yagami residence he was able to navigate the small home with incredible ease. He knew which door belonged to Light's room and paused before it.

Light.

To say that the boy's death had come as a shock would be a vast understatement. L thought processes had come to a complete standstill when the death was first made known, a blankness of mind that was highly unusual of him and very unsettling.

Even Lind L. Taylor's sudden death that bordered on the supernatural had not shaken the detective this much. None the less he had quickly regained his composure and began issuing commands at the stunned detectives.

L wanted to see the crime scene for himself.

He needed to see it himself.

He needed to see if it was indeed Light that was dead.

Needed to confirm whether it was murder.

Or suicide.

His suspect was dead.

Kira was dead.

His first ever friend was dead.

L needed to see.

He entered the room without hesitation, his hand locating the light switch and flicking it on. He had seen many a gruesome scene in his line of work after all and it was unlikely that this would be any different. The oppressive darkness that had been contained in the room fled at the sudden burst of light, revealing all.

There before him on the bed, eyes glazed in death, was the body of his first and only friend.

Light.

A dark raw wound disfigured the boy's throat but did little to mar the boy's natural beauty. The sight of the wound was obscene; dried blood caked along the side of the face, throat and chest. It had been a messy death, but the execution of it was quite tidy.

The blood on the floor presented the possibility that Light had been placed on the bed after his throat was cut. The distance and position of blood splatters elsewhere in the room revealed that the blade had been slowly drawn instead of viscously slashed during the execution.

Casting a trained eye around the room L took further mental notes.

There was no evident signs of struggle in the immaculately clean room which could mean that Light was either taken completely by surprise and was unaware of the killer at all or had been familiar with the person.

Light had a large network of friends and acquaintances, which would make finding suspects amongst them tedious. Compared to the Kira investigation, it would be easy work.

The windows were open, letting in the cool night air and causing the curtains to flutter uncertainly. L found his attention drawn to the desk though when he found that the drawer was curiously missing. That in itself was very suspicious and caused a whole new branch of theories to cross his mind.

Light must have possessed something the killer was willing to murder him for. The secret to Kira's power perhaps? What else could a university student carry around that was worth killing for?

Well.

That was an incorrect observation.

A lot of crimes were pointless acts of violence over little things or nothing at all.

There was something important in that drawer though, L was sure of it. But why take the whole drawer? Why not just take whatever was inside and leave the drawer behind? It would be a whole lot less suspicious if he had. Besides, escaping with the whole drawer would have been burdensome and slowed him down.

The killer must not have been able to get to what was inside, and yet that did not make sense. That the drawer was locked could not have been the problem else he could not have run off with it.

Whatever was in that drawer was important, and if it was, Light was probably aware of the fact. Therefore it was not at all farfetched to conclude that Light had somehow set up precautions around the object that would make it difficult to obtain.

There was a lot of thought that needed to be put into this. It was essential that they track down the killer and find whatever had been contained in that drawer.

L found his eyes wandering back to the body on the bed. He moved to stand at the edge and gazed down at the face of his rival and friend. A melancholic string pulled somewhere in him that left an unpleasant hollow sensation in his chest.

His hand came to rest on Light's cheek and found it to be cold to his touch. Light had been dead for a good couple of hours before being discovered. His eyes travelled down to Light's crossed hands when he noticed that Light was actually grasping an object.

With great care, for it was unwise to change anything at the scene of a crime before the 'proper' authorities had a chance to photograph the scene, L pulled Lights hand away from the curve of his body. L frowned slightly when he found that the object was a small hand-held mirror. Judging by the make and style, the mirror was of western origin and elaborately decorated.

The mirror was made of lacklustre bronze, the reflective surface cradled in the entwined arms of two bronze angels. Roses crept up the sides and back, skulls cunningly hidden inside flowering buds and twining vines. It was all rather tasteless really.

Tasteless, overdone and cheap.

Why Light would have such an item in his possession in life or death was a mystery in itself. It was most likely then a gift from the killer.

A message?

A token?

The sound of footsteps behind him made L look up. Soichiro had finally made his way upstairs and was now leaning heavily on against the door; his eyes trained on the face of hid deceased son. L could see the anguish in the man's face and respectively looked away, his eyes once more on the mirror.

Very carefully, L pinched the top of the mirror and pulled it free from the dead boy's grasp. Holding the object up in front of him, L stared hard at his reflection.

This mirror.

Was it important?

Yes.

But why?

Sirens wailing in the distance alerted the detective of the incoming authorities. Soon police would be swarming the place. L did not intend to be here when they arrived.

"I believe it is time for me to go Yagami-san. You may stay if you wish or go to your family. You are entitled to time off from the Kira investigation during this difficult time."

With that said L left the room, mirror still pinched between forefinger and thumb.

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**TBC.**

**Review!**

**AN: Okay so this chapter was a bit boring. From here on the story should get interesting though, and Light is very much central to the story so do not discount him yet!**


	3. 03: Obsession

**Warnings: Mentions of blood and very mild gore. AU, Violence & future yaoi.**

**Disclaimer: Pinkfeline does not own Death Note.**

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**Obsession**

A mirror.

It was a simple, ornamental instrument of vanity.

Innocent.

Harmless.

L had been sitting in his customary position, the mirror on the desk in front of him, for well over five hours now. Simply staring at the inanimate object, thumb pressed thoughtfully against his lower lip, L had not let his gaze waver as dark irises pinned the object with a single-minded intensity.

There was something about this mirror.

Something not right.

What was it?

How such an object could catch and hold his attention so completely was a mystery. L was a fickle creature by nature and his interest was rarely stirred to any extent. It was one of many reasons he was selective in the cases he took.

Kira was the first in a long history of cases that had grasped him body and soul. Kira was a challenge, a worthy adversary that L had been willing to put everything on the line for if only to win the game. It had always been a game, one that required sacrifices on both sides and where the award for winning was the right to live.

Now Kira was dead.

The game had ended inconclusive.

The mirror had something to do with it.

Was this new found obsession with the object merely the result of the death of his prior obsession? A substitute to his attentions? With no Kira to chase around…….

The mirror offered no answers, and yet L was sure that the mirror contained a message of a sort. Staring at it however was proving to be fruitless. With a gentle sigh, L reached to his right, sliding the small plate of dessert closer to him. His mind was getting clouded - a sure sign that he was in need of sugar.

He glanced to his left, his eyes settling on the empty chair not a few feet away from him. Light used to sit in that chair whenever working on the Kira case. It was empty now. L fought down the urge to frown; he had glanced at the chair as if expecting to see the handsome youth typing away at the computer. L had gotten used to Light's company and was unaccustomed to his absence.

It was depressing.

And the mirror still wasn't talking.

It was still early; the sun not scheduled to show its face for at least another two hours.

L stood slowly, toes digging into the soft carpet as his feet met the floor. Hunched, L slowly ambled his way to the large window overlooking the city. He leaned his forehead against the cool glass, eyes gazing into the distance when a flicker of movement, reflected against the window caught his attention.

L pivoted around, eyes narrowed in irritation. There was no further movement; no sound to indicate that he was anything but alone. L was not convinced, if anything it caused his paranoia to grow.

With uncommon stealth, L moved across the room, a gun appearing in his hand as subtly as a magician's act.

Watari should be watching in the control room and would have alerted him to any intruders or disturbances. Still there were a number of factors that could have prevented Watari from doing so and L found himself unsettled at each prospect.

Keeping close to the wall, L surveyed each of the rooms on the floor carefully, his movements cautious and silent. He was very much alone.

"Is everything all right?"

Watari's voice echoed into the silence, causing L to relax somewhat.

"Did you detect any movements in the last half hour, particularly this floor?"

Watari answered negative.

With a short huffed "hm", L strode back to the main room and over to the mirror. He glared down at it in irritation. There was prickling at the back of his neck that would not go away. He would be on edge and irritable for the remainder of the morning and possibly well into the day as well.

The other detectives found him sitting at the desk, the mirror on the desk in front of him and a various selection of desserts on a trolley within easy reach. Neither of the Yagami's were amongst them and the atmosphere was depressing.

The days following passed in relative silence, progress on the Kira case largely at a stand still. There were no new reports of victims, criminal or otherwise, apart from Light. So instead, the team started to investigate into Lights murder, following L's claims that Lights death may have a connection with Kira. Besides, it was a murder that hit close to home, and although Light had never made friends with any of the detectives, he had been well respected as a comrade.

It was easy enough to hack into the police database and gleam from them the details of the death. The team was able to gain access to relevant documents including the pathologists' reports and photos of the scene of the crime.

Yagami Soichiro had yet to return to the task force, and Light's funeral was drawing close. L was in a perpetually bad mood, his words often mocking and harsh when addressing the remaining team, unapproachable most of the time. The detectives were worked harder than ever before and they gained a whole new respect for Light, considering that the boy had always been the one to take the brunt of L's moods and had often managed to give back as much as he took.

In L's case, his attention was still firmly on the mirror and no closer to discovering it's significance. Research had gone into the origin of the mirror, the shop that had once held it as one of their fares; it's age and place of manufacture. The search brought no conclusive results, which did not come as a surprise at all.

L's obsession with the mirror was noted by the other detectives and commented quietly on amongst them only when not in the vicinity of the headquarters. L was well aware of their disapproving glares, their confusion and exasperation with him. They obviously could not understand that there was something extremely _wrong_ with this mirror.

As if to ruin him, L found himself still turning to Light, only to find the boy naturally absent from his usual chair. He would often catch himself addressing Light whenever a new thought or theory crossed his mind only to pause mid sentence when realisation that Light was not there dawned on him.

This inability to grasp Light's absence was a matter of some concern. It forced L to admit to himself that in many ways he had been obsessed with the boy, that he had enjoyed the boy's company more than any other's apart from Watari. It unsettled the stoic detective.

L did not acknowledge the departing detectives as they left for the night. He did stand and retreat into the kitchen where a large tub of ice cream was promptly delivered from the icy darkness of the freezer. A silver spoon stabbed at the cold chocolate flavoured dessert, scooping a generous amount of the sweet treat into the detectives' mouth.

With the ice-cream tub cradled in one arm and spoon dangling from the corner of his mouth, L ambled to the living room where he proceeded to make himself comfortable on the couch. L had grabbed the mirror on his way and it now rested on the cushioned seat beside him, face up. Comfortably seated, L continued to indulge himself on the chilled treat, consciously refusing to accept what he was doing.

L was sulking.

Not an hour later would find the detective curled on his side, ice cream tub tucked against his stomach, mirror clutched in one hand and fast asleep. The side of his face was pressed into the cushioned back of the couch, the spoon still dangling from his mouth. It was would be the first time that he slept in nearly a week.

The lights had been left on, and his computer hummed softly into the silence, it had not been turned off either.

There.

Reflected against the glass of the window overlooking the city, the figure of a brown haired boy stood over the sleeping detective. The figure's face was hidden by his hair, gleaming copper in the light, unmoving.

He cast no shadow over the detective, and he made no move to touch him.

He was simply……

Watching.

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**TBC.**

**Review!**

**AN: I have never made so many spelling mistakes as I did in this chapter. I have gone through the story twice now but I am sure I must have missed some very obvious mistakes. Please excuse them. Also I apologise if my characterisations of any of the characters come of as cold and impersonal, I have a lot of trouble writing emotions convincingly, although I do try. In many ways this fic is an experiment for me to practice writing these things. **


	4. 04: A Mockery of Death

**Warnings: Language, possible ooc, future yaoi.**

**Disclaimer: Pink Feline does not own Death Note.**

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**A Mockery of Death**

He was gone.

Dead.

The light in her world had been extinguished.

Killed.

Murdered.

She was alone again.

Alone, in the darkness that was humanity.

He had tried to help the innocent and they had called him evil. He had brought justice to the world and they had hated him for it. He was perfect and for that they tried to destroy him.

This world was corrupt.

Kira.

Light.

She was alone again.

Her family had been murdered, ripped away from her before her very eyes and leaving her alone in a world that was cruel and full of greed and corruption. She had been set afloat alone in the vast and tumultuous ocean that was the depravity of mankind. She had learned to stand alone against the tide, watched as her parents' murderer walked free.

How angry she had been then - she had been there, she had witnessed his crime. How could the evidence be inconclusive!? How could they do this to her? Why did they deny her and her deceased justice? The world grew cold and dark, but she did not break. She would not let them break her. So…

She smiled.

She laughed and joked around.

They loved her, adored her, called her beautiful - and she let them. The media called her cheerful and full of life, the role model of many a young girls.

Still, she could not escape the darkness, could not escape the images of death.

But then.

Kira offered her the justice that the law had denied her. He had seen the evil in the world, the darkness and had set out to destroy it. Eliminate it.

Death visited her.

Ugly, skeletal and emaciated.

Rem

There was a new light in the world, a light in the darkness.

She was no longer alone.

Rem - her Shinigami and newest friend. Rem who brought Kira's secret to her, who gave her the gift of death and traded her eyes. The angel of death who gave her the key to finding Kira.

When she had seen him she had immediately fallen in love. Light. Beautiful, smart and gentle Light. Perfection in human form. Her salvation from the darkness. She loved him, clung to him, obeyed him because he was pure and perfect justice. Once again she had hope and to her eyes the world already seemed brighter. She was going to help him create a perfect world, forever by his side. A world without crime, a world of light and happiness.

Deprived of intimacy, of love and tenderness – Misa had given everything to him, her heart and soul, because she trusted him. She loved him. Needed him like the rose needs the rain.

She had truly loved him.

Now he was dead.

Murdered.

And Misa finally learned to hate.

Hate for the criminal who had stolen her light from the world. Hate for the people who let it happen. Hate for the law that would deny them justice once more.

Hate.

She had nothing left to live for, her purpose in life was gone. Her love was gone. She could not live without him, would not.

But first…

She would see to it that Light received justice, just as he had given her the justice she had yearned for. She would be the one to bring down justice on the criminal responsible for his death, even if she had to kill them all.

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Thirteen.

Thirteen criminals dead in their cells.

Cause of Death: Heart Attack

Thirteen criminals were declared dead, victims of Kira on the very same day as Yagami Light's funeral. Perhaps it was a new Kira's salute to the first and greatest Kira, or perhaps it was a form of mockery to the deceased god.

L couldn't tell.

Yagami Light's funeral was conducted in the traditional Buddhist funeral ceremony and the detectives were given the time off to pay their respects to the Yagami household. L was understandably absent, having grown increasingly paranoid over the past few days.

The second Kira was still out there, although the other detectives were still unconvinced that Light had been the first, and L could not let his guard down for even a day.

L found solace in the absence of the others. Misa had reacted violently to her boyfriends' death and her incessant crying was breaking down L's already frazzled nerves. L had to refrain many times from cursing the deceased boy for the trouble his death was causing.

Now blissfully alone, L still felt tense but his temper cooled.

The little bronze mirror was placed next to him, always no further than an arm's length away from the detective. Why he felt the need to keep the mirror with him at all times was a mystery, and L suspected that unless the mirror was locked away, the habit would not cease.

L did not refrain from cursing the mirror.

Since the day that Light's body was discovered, and the mirror found, L had become increasingly paranoid that he was being watched. He could feel eyes watching him and the sense grew only stronger with each passing day. It never ceased to give the normally untouchable detective the chills, the hairs at the back of his neck prickling whenever the sense grew strong.

This constant feeling off being watched did nothing to improve his mood and only served to feed his paranoia.

When the reports of Kira's newest victims came in, L practically jumped at his laptop. Finally something was happening, now surely he would be able to put thoughts of a certain handsome youth and stupid bronze mirrors aside temporarily.

Photos appeared on the screen, each depicting a bloody scene. The difference between this Kira and the first immediately became obvious, proof that they were dealing with yet a third murdering fool. Each of the thirteen criminals bore a bloodied mark on their foreheads. Evidently the victims had found various ways in which to draw their own blood, using it to paint a single mark on their foreheads before succumbing to a heart attack.

The symbol was repeated on each victim, acting almost as the new Kira's signature, claiming each death as his own.

It was the Japanese character for moon.

'Tsuki'

'Light'

A burst of irrational anger strained at L's control.

Kira was mocking the death of his friend.

Kira was mocking Light.

The boy and not the killer.

Red-hot fury churned in his gut, and without thought the Laptop was sent crashing into the wall. L made no move to collect the broken machine, remaining tense and unmoving in his chair. His head was down resting almost on his knees, his hair obscuring the rest of his face.

Two weeks of repressed emotion had lashed out in that moment and was even now being wrestled back into tight control.

Events were spiralling out of control, twisting and changing before anyone could fully grasp their significance. First one Kira appeared killing hundreds, then two and now three. The first Kira and the second Kira joined forces briefly before the first seemed to disappear completely. Following that the third Kira murdered the first Kira, who just happened to be L's first friend. The third Kira had wanted something from the first Kira and had killed him for it. That left the second Kira as a wild card now that the first Kira was no longer there to control her.

There just was no end to Kira.

L pushed away from his desk, ignoring the wreck on the floor and entering the bathroom. He placed his hands on either side of the sink, his head bent and eyes closed.

He felt the gaze at his back, those damn imaginary eyes.

L was getting angry.

Light, dead.

First Kira, dead.

An infuriating mirror.

An unknown watcher.

A sobbing and shrieking model.

Depressed co-workers.

Third fucking Kira.

The normally stoic detective was reaching the end of his patience.

This was why he worked alone, why he never showed his face.

Alone, he could not get attached to people.

Alone, he did not have to deal or care for other's tempers and feelings.

His hands had curled themselves into fists, and his breathing pattern had ceased to be steady. To lose his composure to this extent…

Turning on the cold tap, L drenched his face before lifting his head to stare into the large bathroom mirror.

His reflection showed him the same expressionless mask that was his face, and found the face of another watching him from behind his right shoulder.

Whirling around with such speed that he lost his balance and fell back against the bathroom counter, L searched the bathroom desperately. By all appearances L was alone, but he had seen the face in the mirror, that familiar face that he would be unable to forget.

The same intensely intelligent golden brown eyes.

The copper brown hair attractively cropped.

The same gentle masculine face of one Yagami Light.

His breathing had sped up and echoed loudly into the silence. He found himself shaking; a physical response to shock that he had not experienced for many years. Little shocked him these days, not the sight of extreme violence nor the incredibly twisted mentality and brutality that existed in some individuals of the human race.

The face in the mirror had shocked him though.

The boy was dead.

L knew this.

He turned back to the mirror, but the only face staring back at him was his own.

* * *

**AN: For those who may be wondering, this story is set after Light's imprisonment but disregards the Yotsuba arc completely. Also some elements will still not be consistent with the original storyline even till this point. Misa may appear slightly ooc here, but I actually think she has a pretty strong character. It just tends to be hidden by her clingyness to Light.**

**Also a quick thank you to those who have reviewed, I appreciate the time you have put into writing them (even if it may have taken but a few seconds to write).**


	5. 05: Questions Without Answers

**Warnings: AU, Future Yaoi, Language, Violence**

**Disclaimer: Pink Feline does not own Death Note.**

* * *

**Questions Without Answers**

L was waiting for the updated list of the newest of Kira's victims when the sombre detectives returned to their duties. L watched them from the corner of his eye from his place by the computers. Soichiro Yagami had returned with the other men, but it was not the same man that L was familiar with.

Soichiro seemed to have aged at an unnatural rate and poorly so; deep lines carved into his face and there was a world wariness in his eyes that had not been there before. Even so there was a determination in the way that he carried himself, a stubborn set to his shoulders and purpose in his stride. Still the man's sorrow clung to him like a shadow, a film of darkness that could not be dispelled by any source of light but the one that was extinguished already.

A beep pulled him out of his thought and alerted L to the fact that the documents he had requested had been received, instantly capturing his attention.

Fourteen.

Fourteen suspicious deaths - all recorded as death by heart attack.

Fourteen new victims to fall to the name Kira.

There was an inconsistency in the list that L picked up on almost immediately. It was only the second week since this new third Kira began making an appearance, so the inconsistency could not be attributed to a break in the pattern through the number of victims since a pattern had yet to be established. It was the fact that the fourteenth listed victim had no criminal background whatsoever, apart from two speeding tickets issued over the course of the last year.

Kyosuke Higuchi

Kyosuke was a high-ranking member of the Yotsuba Corporation if memory served correctly. L recalled seeing Light doing some research into the group only a couple of days before being 'declared' innocent and his subsequent murder.

Had Light made a connection between Kira and Yotsuba?

Was his death somehow connected?

Kyosuke's death was no mere incident, there was something significant in his death and L had ever intention of discovering what it was.

L moved over to the computer that had been used by Light during his part in the investigation. Every computer and electronic device was being monitored and the information stored which made tracing Light's work effortless. Light had indeed been doing intensive research into Kira including any possible suspects, and the sheer amount of files and data recalled was staggering.

Quickly calling up the most recent data, L swept his eyes through the list and sure enough found files related to Yotsuba Corp. Opening the files, L bore witness to the fruits of Light's labour. The data was incomplete, but there was enough information there to cast the shadow of suspicion on the corporate giant and to give the investigation a new direction within which to travel.

It would seem that Yostuba Corp had been enjoying a steadily increasing rise in their share prices, while rival companies seemed to be afflicted with misfortune. Light had included notes of recent deaths within most of the rival companies, all centred around people in high positions within their respective companies. Ironically enough, most of the deaths were listed as heart attacks.

By all appearances Kira was in league with Yotsuba, but how did Kyosuke Higuchi's death fit into this?

Light had done well, but why had he not made his suspicions known to the rest of the investigating group? Had he simply felt that he needed more information before proceeding to draw attention to the Corporation? These questions could wait a moment.

Returning to his own computer of choice, L opened the folder containing photos of the crime scene of each of the fourteen victims. He looked at each one carefully, once more finding an inconsistency between Kyosuke's death and the deaths of the other thirteen criminals. The thirteen criminals all bore the bloody 'tsuki' character on their foreheads while Kyosuke Higuchi did not.

Third Kira had murdered the thirteen criminals – but not Higuchi.

If the Third Kira had not killed Higuchi, then it had to have been Second Kira to kill the man. Unless off course there was an as of yet unknown 'fourth Kira'. Considering events as they stood, L would not have been surprised if there were a fourth damned fool.

L turned to the monitors that showed Amane Misa in her rooms, curled up on her bed and obviously miserable.

Had she killed Kyosuke Higuchi?

If so, why?

How?

More questions.

If only he could find the answers.

L felt a twinge of annoyance. There was one person who knew the answers to these questions and had time and again refused to give them.

Light Yagami.

First Kira.

If only the boy was still alive.

However.

Answers were slowly starting to come, even if they brought a whole new set of questions with them.

L made a note to have surveillance increased concerning the blonde model, Misa. Somehow she was tied into this and without Light's guidance, she was sure to let things slip.

Coming back to the issue – why was Kyosuke Higuchi killed?

L needed to think on this for a moment. There were many factors that could have led to the man's demise - too many factors to make an accurate assumption without further information.

L looked up to find the detectives patiently awaiting his orders.

L gave Kanzo Mogi the task of researching the Yotsuba Corporation, requesting a list of all current and recent employees starting from top ranking positions down to the lowest ranking.

To Soichiro, L gave the task of completing Light's data concerning the deaths of employees in rival businesses, the data to be charted thereafter.

Both were tasks that Light could have done on his own, probably more efficiently than the detectives now assigned the job. L would have preferred to have Light handle the information, but as circumstances dictated, this was no longer possibly and he had capable detectives in his command. They were dedicated, and while results may be slower in coming, they would no doubt be good enough and serve their purpose. L would not waste time working with incompetent fools after all.

Personally, L felt that Matsuda was the exception to this.

Still, Matsuda was useful for keeping the blonde bombshell busy and out of his hair. If anything, Matsuda's dedication and good nature would prevent him from slacking off on the job and was reliable in this regard.

The man had his uses.

---

Amane Misa lay curled on her bed, 'Reaper' her old teddy bear crushed in her arms and the fur at the back of his head damp with tears. Occasional sniffling sounds could be heard, muffled as the sounds were by the furry obstruction.

Misa had spent many night in this fashion, curled up and drowning in her own sorrow.

From the corner of the room, Rem stood watching the girl in silence, ignored for the most part. She could not quite understand why Light's death affected the girl so. The human boy had been nothing but a cold hearted monster, unashamedly exploiting Misa's obvious affections and uncomprehending to the ways of love and compassion.

With Light's death Misa should have been free, but even now the girl was caught within Light's power, unable and unwilling to take the freedom and instead clinging to the cage that was her love for him.

Rem could not understand and so she kept her peace.

Eventually the model calmed and uncurled herself, revealing a face that was red and puffy from days of continuous crying.

In her mind she remembered all the moments she had shared with him.

The day she first saw him from her place in the 'Blue Note', radiant as he laughed and joked with his friends.

The night when she had showed up at his door, been welcomed in and spilled her story to the one and only Kira.

The moment when he had hugged her.

He had held her that night, she a complete stranger to him, and she had found his arms to be strong and comforting. She had given everything to him then, her heart and soul, this one person who would cast the darkness aside.

Her beautiful Light.

She remembered also the first time that he kissed her. His lips had been soft and warm, dry and inviting, and had held such power in that gentle touch of lips that she had lost herself in him completely. He had total control over her, and it thrilled and uplifted her. There was nothing in the world beyond him, beyond doing his will.

New tears slid over the raw skin of her cheeks.

The memory of their first kiss was still so powerful in her mind and brought with it such sweet sorrow that she almost lost herself in the pain of loneliness once more.

Enough was enough.

Misa had one last task to do, a task that was of great importance to her and when it was done she would go to Light in the world hereafter.

She had only to discover a way of finding Light's killer. Ryuuzaki would certainly not permit her to view any information on the Kira case so she could not rely on the investigation team. That she was trapped and under constant surveillance made the task seem even more impossible, but Misa was determined.

She would find a way.

She looked to the corner at her angel of death. She needed to speak with Rem.

* * *

**TBC.**

**R&R!**

**AN: No Light this time –sorry. Don't worry though, he is important to the story and we shall see more of him as the story progresses, first I need to set some events in motion. Misa's parts may come off a bit thick (disgustingly sweet and overdone) - I am sorry for this, but thats the way it's gonna be. And no offense to Matsuda fans. **


	6. 06: Ballpoint

**Warnings: Language, possible ooc, future yaoi.**

**Disclaimer: Pink Feline does not own Death Note.**

* * *

**Ballpoint**

When an absolute silence descended on the room, L looked away from the computer where he had been busily hacking into Yotsuba's databases. He glanced around the room and was irritated to find himself completely alone, none of the detectives in sight.

All the computers were shut down, and when he turned to his own a blank screen met him. Upon closer inspection of his surroundings, L found that there was a curious lack of brightness. All the colours seem to be faded, as if aged – the colour remained but did not retain the brightness it ought to have.

Curious.

Getting up, L shuffled to the kitchen and found it to be empty. Well, he had not aimed for the kitchen for the purpose of finding whether his renegade detectives had taken to conspiring there. No, he simply had the distinctive craving for something sweet and he had already exhausted the sweet supply at his workstation.

Normally super-fast thought processes were slow to connect when L was met with the most shocking scene he could imagine.

The fridge was empty.

Striding to the cupboards he flung them open and was met with empty shelves.

No ice-cream.

No cake.

Not even a bag of cookies.

His hands began to clench and unclench repeatedly in anxiety. There had to be confectionery somewhere, already the craving was consuming him.

Finding no relief in the kitchen, L stalked back to the main room where he proceeded to turn the place upside down in his search for any edible sweet items that may have been discarded by accident or hidden. He found nothing.

He had a stash of candy in the bedside drawer in the room he had shared with Light, emergency supply during those times that the boy had managed to convince L that Light needed sleep in order to function at his full capacity.

He was reluctant to enter that domain, had been reluctant to enter ever since Light's death. Why he felt unsettled whenever entering the bedroom L could not explain. He was simply thankful that he did not feel the need to spend much time there considering his status as resident insomniac. His sweet craving made him push such foolish reservations aside though and before he could blink twice, L was at the bedroom door.

His hand paused on the doorknob. Standing at the door, L found that a strange sense of dread had crept up around him. There was something at the other side of the door, something dangerous…

Waiting…

Watching…

L pulled the door open and was met with a darkness so complete that he might as well have been staring at a black wall for all that he could see passed it. The deep urgency that called to him from the darkness made him take that one step into the darkness, into his bedroom.

Looking back through the door, L saw the hallway, as it should have been, no sign of the oppressive darkness. Turning his attention back to the bedroom, he found it as empty as the rest of the place and lacking the same brightness, no monster awaiting him.

He rushed over to 'his' side of the bed, pulling the drawer with such enthusiasm that it was pulled free of its confines and crashed to the floor. The drawer was empty – no confectionery.

A sound from the adjoining bathroom pulled the detective from his shocked and anxious thoughts; his eyes drifting to the door leading to said bathroom. Light filtered from the crack beneath the door, the faint sound of shuffling drawing him to the door. With as much hesitance as he had shown opening the bedroom door, L pulled the door open.

Looking in L found himself face to face with none other than Light. His deceased friend offered him no smile or even a greeting, but simply watched him from his position by the bathroom counter with the same blank expression that L recognised to be his own. The room was bathed with the warm yellow of artificial light, bright in comparison to L's surroundings thus far.

Light wore nothing but the sleeping trousers and socks he had been found dead in, his chest bare and his throat unmarred.

Bemused, L could not stop the name from being spoken into that stuffy silence.

"Light?"

His voice had wavered ever so slightly when he spoke that name.

A flicker in those golden-brown eyes was the only indication that the boy had heard his name, that he recognised L at all.

After a moment, those perfect lips stretched and curled into a smirk

That slow, bedevilled smile that made the breath catch in L's throat and his heart pound with an unusual ferocity.

That smile was dangerous

It was the smile of a killer, taunting, challenging.

L found himself caught in the image of that smile.

That dangerously beautiful smile on the deceivingly innocent face.

The spell was broken when Light turned to the mirror, turning away from the detective, without sparing a glance for his reflection. He reached out to the mirror, drawing it back and opening the medicine cabinet. L could not see what the boy put in there, but it was no doubt important.

The boy's eyes caught his and held them for the barest of moments.

L took a step forward.

A hand had come to rest on his shoulder, jerking the detective from his sleep. Looking around L found that he had dozed of while working, the list of Yotsuba employees stuck comically to the side of his face where he had rested his head on it. Using forefinger and thumb to pull the offending sheet away from his face, L sent a glare to the detective that had woken him.

The concerned and somewhat nervous face of Matsuda looked back at him sheepishly, the other detectives having quickly averted their gazes when it became transparent that L was alert once more. L had been drooling slightly in his sleep, no doubt dreaming of some sickeningly sweet new treat – they had all exchanged small smiles before agreeing that the great detective could be left to sleep for a while more.

They doubted L would appreciate the humour in his situation.

L simply blinked owlishly at them before returning to his task, intent on ignoring them. His mind was not on the data on the screen in front of him though, instead mulling over the dream. There was nothing of significance in the dream after all; dreams were simply products of the sub-conscious mind.

Getting up, L stalked to his bedroom, flinging doors open as he went. Sparing no time, L made his way to the bathroom and entered it without a shred of hesitation. L was not spooked by dreams.

The bathroom was empty, L consciously denying that some small part of him had hoped to find Light there despite circumstances. He marched up to the medicine cabinet and pulled it open, examining the contents inside. Amongst various harmless bottles of vitamins, energy boosters and salves for various purposes lay an ordinary ballpoint pen.

Picking up the object with the same amount of care and minimal contact that he usually used when dealing with inanimate objects, L examined the pen. There was nothing at all odd about it except that it did not belong in he cabinet. Returning to the main room with the pen still delicately pinched between his fingers L found a small clear plastic bag and dropped the pen into it, sealing it closed. He then left for the main control room where Watari could be found monitoring the building.

"Watari, I have an object that I would like to have scanned for finger prints. Also I would like you to contact Aiber and Wedy, their services will be needed."

Watari answered affirmative, already setting up secure lines with which to communicate L's wishes.

"And Watari, I would also like to review all the surveillance tapes of Misa's floor and my bathroom."

Watari sent L a curious look but complied none the less.

L returned to the lounge where he took up his laptop and inquired briefly to any new information that may have come though.

It appeared that Arayoshi Hatori, another high-ranking Yotsuba manager, had died the same week of Light's death. Heart attack.

L took a moment to consider this, requesting more information into the man's death and the circumstances that surrounded it. He requested the same information of Kyosuke Higuchi. The aim was to identify any possible connections between the two deaths, apart from partnership within the Yotsuba Corporation.

L retreated to his room, making a detour to the kitchen and leaving with an armful of confectionery. He settled into his normal crouched position in the middle of the bed, the candy to his left and the laptop at his front. Comfortable settled L began reviewing Misa's tapes first with the same practised detachment that he viewed most other things.

Reviewing the tapes would take hours, but L was prepared for it. If Misa had killed Higuchi then surely there would be some sign. It was now the fourth week since Light's death and Misa seemed to have finally gained control of her emotions, though she still often cried herself to sleep.

L did not find anything out of place while reviewing the tapes until he started watching the footage two weeks after Lights death. On that Tuesday, when Misa had managed to motivate herself enough to do a photo shoot, the girl had returned with a markedly different poise to her leaving that morning.

There was a determination there that was unfamiliar on the face of Amane Misa and it made the hair's on the back of his neck prickle. The girl's gaze seemed to keep on finding the corner of her bedroom as if she could see something lurking there that he could not. She made neither other suspicious movements nor comments, but L could tell that something about Misa was different.

L was sure that he was looking not at Amane Misa, but watching the one and only Second Kira. The change was similar to the one Light had undergone during his confinement. There was no doubt in L's mind that Misa had somehow regained her memories.

This made her dangerous, but also allowed him to examine her closely. Perhaps she would reveal how Kira killed, or would lead him to the new Kira. Briefly he began weigh his options.

Misa's love for Light could not be contested and if she had indeed regained her memories as Second Kira, there was a good percentage that she would in some way try and kill the Third Kira. The Third Kira certainly did not inspire devotion, especially to the degree she had to Light, on her part.

L may be able to use this to his advantage. What he was considering was extremely risky, but the rewards reaped may make the risk well worth it. Besides, all his plans contained the element of extreme risk; it came with the job and was part of the challenge.

L's gaze fell on the little bronze mirror. He had not given the object much thought lately, but perhaps Misa would be able to understand the meaning of it where as he could not.

* * *

**TBC.**

**R&R!**

**AN: I was going to hold on to this chapter for another day at least considering that I am posting this practically the same day as the last chapter. Couldn't be bothered. So here you go. Longest chapter yet.**


	7. 07: Gift

**Warnings: Language, possible ooc, future yaoi.**

**Disclaimer: Pink Feline does not own Death Note.**

* * *

**Gift**

This time L recognised the surroundings to be that of his dreams, the same lack of brilliance and absence of life the key indicators.

He stood bare-foot in the middle of his room, one foot raising to scratch an imaginary itch on his other leg while he maintained his sloppy posture. He merely stayed in that spot for a few minutes before deciding that inactivity was boring and left the room.

The lights were off but L managed to manoeuvre through the maze of rooms, floors and stairs with relative ease. He was headed to the main lounge, curious as to what he would find. He briefly wondered whether he would find any sweet desserts in the vicinity if he were to raid the kitchen now. He might as well check.

He stepped into the lounge, casting a cursory eye around the room before noticing the figure seated in one of the chairs.

Light was leaning back into the chair; long legs stretched out before him and head bent down. In his lap he held an open book and appeared to be reading, fingers gently turning the page every few seconds with one hand while the other cradled his chin. He seemed at first oblivious to L's presence, but when the dark haired man stepped nearer those golden brown eyes flickered upwards to his face.

The intensity in those eyes were not lessened by he fact that they were half obscured by his fringe, but only added to the boy's aura. There was something unnerving in the boy's stare, something that he had first picked up on when he had met the boy due to him being under suspicion for being Kira. An intensity that innocent Light had often lacked but for moments of deep internal contemplation.

L was not one to let that stare get to him and was more than skilled at the stare himself. L knew that his appearance alone was unnerving, but his eyes even more so. It was a fact that L had often taken advantage of during those times that he had revealed himself for whatever reason to any personage other than Watari. Besides, it was often amusing seeing people's reaction to 'the stare'.

Neither man spoke, L choosing instead to perch himself on one of the armchairs in his customary position. Unconsciously he brought his thumb to his mouth, a habit that he had picked up sometime during his youth and that had persisted throughout the years.

L was in such a position that he was able to see some of the pages of the book that Light was reading. The pages were blank and yet Light seemed not to notice this as he had returned to his reading when L had sat down.

The silence remained unbroken for several long minutes, Light reading and L watching Light read. Finally it seemed that L's staring broke through Lights barriers and the golden eyed boy turned to him with a resigned sigh.

"Is there a reason that you are staring Ryuuzaki-san? Surely you have better things to do?"

It had been a while since L had heard the boy speak and those words softly spoken with the same characteristic bite in the younger man's voice was welcome indeed.

L had not realised that he missed listening to the younger man talk. There was a pleasant quality to the boy's voice.

Light tilted his head to the side in innocent inquiry when L gave no answer.

After a few minutes of staring, L finally decided to speak.

"Forgive my frankness Light-kun, but you are dead."

Surprise filtered briefly over Light's face before it was hidden under his usual mask of polite indifference. L's comment was unforeseen and all too typical of the detective. It was a statement that would throw anyone, Light being no exception.

"If I am dead Ryuuzaki-san, then how is it that you and I are having this conversation?"

That voice was as soft and polite as always, but L could detect the ribbons of sarcasm colouring the words.

"Simple. This is a dream."

"Yours or mine?"

"Mine"

A pause.

"How do you know it's a dream?"

"I've had it before."

Silence.

"Do you dream of me often Ryuuzaki-san?"

L found himself blinking a couple of times before the meaning behind the words fully sunk in. He shifted in his seat, suddenly and inexplicably uncomfortable. Looking at the boy, L found that Light's eyes were without malice – only deeply amused while a smirk played at the boy's mouth.

Light was teasing him.

"Light-kun is Kira. I dream of catching Kira and therefore I dream of catching Light-kun."

"Have you caught me Ryuuzaki-san?"

"Light-kun is dead."

"Were you the one to kill me?"

The amusement was gone in Light's eyes, replaced by an unknown quality that L could not place.

"I believe Kira was the one to kill Light."

"So are you saying I killed myself Ryuuzaki-san?"

"Did you?"

Light did not reply, nor did he look away or show any sign of discomfort. Instead those eyes bore into his own – his gaze searching. L was not intimidated, only curious. This was turning into a rather interesting conversation, a strange one but interesting none the less.

A mocking smirk once more twisted Light's lips, the glint of pearly teeth showing briefly.

L could feel his eyes narrowing. Despite this being a dream he felt the beginnings of a challenge, the same daring intensity that made it all so exciting. What the challenge was, was as of yet unknown, but Light was challenging him and L had absolutely no intention of loosing - dream be damned.

"I won't make it that easy for you L-san, I'm sure you'll figure it out."

Those were the last word spoken before L found himself wrenched back to the waking world.

---

Misa was brooding on her bed when the soft knock at her door came. She had no time to stand up to answer it before L had let himself in. Misa glowered at the pale detective, nasty little insults at the tip of her tongue and waiting to be unleashed. The man was infuriating; after all he was the one to keep Light away from her and now he simply waltzed into her rooms as if he owned the place.

Okay, L did own the building but that hardly gave him any right to enter without permission. She could have been undressed for heaven's sake!

She was about to give him a piece of her mind when L interrupted her, his strange dark eyes watching her with an intensity that made her skin crawl. L truly was a scary little man, the complete opposite to Light in every way, like a big crooked spider that lurked in shadowy corners. Her skin crawled.

"Good evening Amane-san, I apologise for interrupting."

L did not sound sorry at all Misa thought sullenly - glaring at the detective as she waited for him to address his reasoning for paying her a visit. Ryuuzaki never visited her of his own volition, except the few brief dates she were allowed with Light when the two had been handcuffed together. Thankfully he was not one for beating around the bush.

Misa blinked in surprise when she found a small hand held mirror thrust her way, dangling from the pinching grip L held it in. Another of the detectives silly little quirks that Misa could not understand nor wish to.

"A gift from Light"

It was all explanation he gave her, and it was all she needed. The mirror quickly changed hands, one hand cradling the back while the other slid over its sides and handle while keeping the reflective surface untouched. It was an object of beauty to her, made more so because it was a gift from Light. She stared at it in wonder, eyes taking in the details of the angels – faces serene and almost pitying. She found pleasure in the morbid implications of the skulls at the heart of the roses – the traditional symbols of love and desire.

Something about the mirror called to her, this gift that was hers.

Misa glanced up to find Ryuuzaki studying her intently thumb pressed against his bottom lip. There was something suspicious about all this, but Misa could not grasp the reasoning behind this feeling of wrongness.

"Why does Ryuuzaki-san give Light's gift to Misa now?"

Ryuuzaki blinked at her once, his expressionless face making her uncomfortable. When he spoke there was something of a condescending tone in his voice that irked Misa.

"It was withheld due to the possibility that evidence as to Light's murderer may be found on it. It is no longer of use to us and now passes into your care as I'm sure Light intended."

Misa looked down at the mirror in her hands, a frown creasing her brow.

"Misa Misa thanks Ryuuzaki-san for giving her Light's gift. Misa Misa appreciated it greatly."

Misa bowed politely as she thanked the detective. She was aware, after all, that L could simply have kept the mirror and leave her none the wiser that Light had left her a gift.

Ryuuzaki seemed to accept this and turned to leave. He paused briefly at the door but did not turn to look at her.

"I trust you will take good care of it Amane-san."

There was a strange quality to the detective's voice when he spoke those words, but Misa was hardly interested enough to try and discern what that quality was. Her attention had gone back to the mirror as soon as the detective's back was turned and hardly took notice of his absence.

Staring at her own reflection in that little bronze mirror, Misa fancied that she saw Light's smiling face behind her to her right, only one golden brown eye and the curve of his lips clearly visible.

* * *

**TBC.**

**Read & Review!**

**AN: This chapter almost makes up for the lack of dialogue in the other chapters. Hopefully I managed to keep the characters as close as possible in character. There's a reason after all why there is so little dialogue in the first place. Somehow this story is developing into a more serious and complicated story than I intended. I'm having a lot of fun with writing it though, hopefully it is still fun to read and interesting.**

**BTW – comments and ideas are greatly appreciated and often inspire new elements in the story. Some questions asked in reviews have resulted in some of the events transpiring – although it may not be immediately obvious. It is always good to see the story from another's perspective as it allows new ideas to form and holes to be filled that the writer did not think of or notice.**


	8. 08: Tears

**Warnings: Language, possible ooc, future yaoi.**

**Disclaimer: Pink Feline does not own Death Note.**

* * *

**Tears**

Misa woke to find herself in complete and utter darkness. It was not the darkness that spoke of the absence of light, for such darkness was incomplete. No, Misa found herself in darkness that spoke of nothingness, a force that squeezed the breath from her lungs and seemed to blanket her in it's suffocating folds. She tried to call out; to fight against this darkness but her energy drained quickly making her struggle short-lived.

The shape of a door appeared before her, it's shape silhouetted by thin bands of light. Reaching out with the last of her strength Misa pushed the door open –

And found herself stepping into her lounge at the investigation headquarters.

The room was well lit, keeping the shadows to bare minimum for which Misa was grateful. The nightmare of the suffocating darkness behind her made her skin crawl and she knew that she would be spooked by mere shadows.

The place was as neat as she kept it and comfortably familiar. This entire floor acted as a comfortable prison, always watched and monitored. She could not leave of her own free will and was pretty much at the mercy of the freaky spider detective. None the less Misa had made every room her own. During those times when she had a spare minute between her job and being ushered back to her 'prison cell', Misa had managed to buy little odds and ends to add a familiarity in her rooms that would comfort her during this strange period in her life.

She took comfort in her settings now.

A movement from the corner of her eye caught the girl's attention – drawing her eyes to the figure standing by the window. Her breath caught audibly in her throat and her eyes widened considerably.

There, staring out at the world beyond the glass stood the proud figure of Light, dressed neatly in a pair of black trousers and a white button up shirt. His presence was as powerful as ever, confident and with that hidden shadow of danger that Misa knew to be Kira. She must have whispered his name, for he turned to look at her then with those same gorgeously deep eyes.

Her heart was beating wildly and tears caused her eyes to blur, her whole body shaking with the intensity of her emotions. Light's name fell from her lips in a broken sob as she blindly took a step towards him, her hands reaching out. All the control she had managed to assert on herself, the pain she had put aside so that she could find a way to give Light justice rose up furiously in her already battered heart.

Warm arms enveloped her and pulled her up against a strong chest, one hand resting gently on her back while the other cradled the back of her head. Overwhelmed, Misa let her face press tightly against Light's solid form, hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt as tears streamed down her face. No words were spoken; Light calmly holding the distressed girl as she once more let her emotions go.

Misa thought that she had cried all the tears she could, but the sight of the man she loved had broken down the fragile walls she had built to dampen her emotions.

They stood like this for what seemed an eternity before Misa managed to get her tears under control. She did not pull away, relishing the feel of Light's body against hers, and instead turned her face to look up at him.

Light was watching her, his eyes as mysterious as ever and his face still the expressionless mask that Misa was familiar with. There was no doubt in her mind that this was Light.

The hand that had cradled her head now moved to her cheeks, wiping the damp skin with what could only be called tenderness. That same quality seemed to briefly pass over Light's face, but was quickly hidden from her hopeful eyes.

"Misa"

His fingers ghosted over her face, tracing down her jaw, chin and lips. His touch was soothing, the caressing movements of his hands instilling a drowsy calm within her. Even a month after his death, Light still held her completely in his power.

Those fingers paused briefly at her lips, his breath washing over her face, almost as if he was going to lean in and kiss her. The fingers retraced their way up her face.

"Misa"

His voice was soft, smoothly tender and darkly passionate. Pleasurable thrills ran down her spine at the sound of her name coming from his lips.

"Yes Light?"

Her voice came out thick, barely above a whisper.

"Do you mourn for me Misa?"

"Yes."

"Will you avenge my death?"

"Yes"

There was no doubt in her answer, breathless as it were given.

"Misa will find the one who killed Light. Misa will find him and kill him. Misa promises!"

There was a note of desperation in her voice now; desperation for him to see that she would do anything for him.

"But Misa doesn't know how. Ryuuzaki-san keeps Misa locked up the whole day!"

Tears were gathering in her eyes again, distressed at her inability to do as she promised. Again she felt resentment towards the pale detective; he was in her way to fulfilling her mission.

She would have spoken more had Light not brushed his lips over hers in that instant. For a breathless moment everything stopped, the feeling of his lips on hers taking centre stage. It was only a light brushing of lips, and yet it had no less effect than a full kiss.

"Sssh."

His hand was in her hair, running his fingers through the golden strands. He spoke softly still, his eyes half-lidded and gazing intently into her own.

"I will guide you. Do everything that I say and soon we will find him, and you can kill him. If you kill him Misa, then I can rest in peace and will be in your debt."

She did not have a chance to answer as he took one of her hands in his own only to gently kiss her palm. Lips and warm sweet breath ghosting over fingers, knuckles and wrist as his fingers entwined with her own.

Light had never shown this level of affection to anyone while he was still alive, least of all to her. She had always been the one to instigate touch of any affectionate kind, and even then Light had always looked distinctly uncomfortable and pulled away. If there had ever been any doubt at all in her love for him, he had swiftly erased them just then with his actions.

"Misa will do everything Light asks of her!"

Her voice had gained strength; her words filled with iron will conviction. With her free hand she cupped Light's face and repeated her answer.

His only response was a slow, dangerous smile.

"Good girl"

---

L had kept a vigilant eye on Misa ever since returning from her room after giving her the mirror.

She had admired herself and the mirror for some minutes after his departure, an enigmatic smile gracing her full lips. She seemed as fascinated with the mirror as L had been, though she did not glare at the mirror as if it had committed a grave offence as he had. Instead she seemed completely enamoured with it, probably because of the lie that Light had intended the mirror as a gift for her.

L did not feel guilty at all for that particular little white lie, for all he knew it could have been the truth. Who's to say that Light had not been vainly preening himself in the little bronze mirror before being murdered? He could even have gotten the mirror sometime between University and on his way home with the intention of giving it to Misa. Really there were a lot of possibilities and unknowns. Choosing one possibility as fact for the purposes of furthering the investigation was hardly going to cause any great harm.

Sitting in the solitary darkness of his room, monitoring equipment arranged haphazardly around him, L watched the blond model. No doubt had he been watching in the main room with the other detectives, he would have had to explain himself while rebutting all their foolish and unnecessary arguments.

He had no interest in Misa, sexually or otherwise apart from her status as Second Kira. Yes he was violating her privacy, but it was a necessary evil when dealing with a Kira.

So far the model had done nothing interesting or suspicious. When the mirror failed to keep her amused any longer, Miss Amane had taken to reading magazine, mirror lying on the bed next to her.

L found it interesting however that Misa kept the mirror with her the whole night. No matter where on her floor she went, the mirror was always no more than an arm's length away. He would easily have discarded this behaviour in light of the girl's obsession and obvious distress at the loss of Light Yagami, if it had not mirrored his own actions concerning the mirror. There were two theories at the front of L's mind about this behaviour.

One.

It could be that L, like Misa, had grown inappropriately obsessed with the boy in his own way and had expressed it in the same way that Misa was expressing it now.

Or.

There was something about that mirror that caused an unconscious obsession or attachment to form, regardless of Light's involvement.

His thumb pushed against his bottom lip as he speculated. It appeared that Misa had fallen asleep while reading her magazine, curled on her side while her head rested on the glossy pages of the trash she had been reading. L vaguely found it amusing that Misa would most likely wake with the magazine stuck to her face. That particular situation was a tad familiar, but L waved off that thought before it could fully form.

Watching her sleep was boring.

Watching anyone sleep was boring.

Excluding Light that is.

L was well trained however and did not let his attention waver from the sleeping girl on the bed on his monitor.

He did not have to wait long before Misa seemed to become ensnared in some kind of nightmare, tossing restlessly and frowning deeply in sleep. Her breathing had sped up, and low sounds of discontent and panic filtered through half parted lips.

Grey-blue eyes that often gave the appearance of being black watched with interest, as Misa seemed to find a way out of the nightmare only to start crying and sobbing pitifully. The dream was most certainly one of Light if it was distressing enough to evoke such an emotional response in sleep. His own dreams concerning Light briefly crossed his mind, but he pushed them back forcefully.

The crying continued on for some minutes before Misa's face cleared and stilled. The dream must have passed, letting Misa drift deeper into sleep.

The rest of the night proved to be uneventful. Misa was not one to talk in her sleep it would appear, something L found quite disappointing. He was hoping the model would spill some kind of secret, or maybe even a clue to Kira while her mind was unguarded and unpopulated with useless thoughts.

No suck luck.

It had been a foolish hope to start with.

Beside the pale detective, the pen from the medicine cabinet lay in it's little plastic bag. It had already been examined and the result showed that the pen was indeed Light's. Light's prints were prominent on the pen, and apart from the tips of L's own fingers showing up no other hands had touched the item. Therefore Light must have placed the pen in the cabinet before his death.

L did not care to examine too closely how he himself had found the pen – dream inspired as it was.

The mystery of the pen was far from over. Light was somehow indirectly challenging L, as absurd as it may sound, and this pen was a clue.

Or just an elaborate joke to befuddle L.

With a plethora of hours ahead watching Amane Misa, L settled himself more comfortably with one leg resting against the ground and curled while the other was drawn against his body. He took up a place of strawberry cheesecake, fork dangling between forefinger and thumb before methodically eating the dessert.

His eyes never left the screen.

* * *

**TBC**  
**Review!**

**AN: You all know how I said this story will be a yaoi? Well guess what….**

**It still is.**

**Light is just an arrogant bastard that knows how to play with a woman's emotions. Gotta love him though. This is the longest chapter I have written thus far, excluding author notes and everything and I hope it is as interesting as always.**


	9. 09: Shinigami

**Warnings: Language, possible ooc, future yaoi, content that may disturb.**

**Disclaimer: Pink Feline does not own Death Note.

* * *

**

**Shinigami**

His hands shook.

His heartbeat was irregular, flighty as a bird and left him increasingly breathless.

A thin coat of sweat covered the surface of his skin, his mouth was unbearably dry and his throat parched despite all the water he had been drinking.

It took all his self-control to maintain a descent front and not collapse in the middle of the shopping centre. The level of embarrassment that would cause was more than he could bear to think about, the thought causing butterflies to take flight in his guts.

He walked faster.

The various pungent odours of men and women, cologne and perfume caused his stomach to roll unpleasantly, nauseatingly.

Voices and background noise battered at his skull, seeping in to collect behind his eyes with the promise of a migraine.

He hated crowds.

He hated people.

His pace quickened.

If he did not get away from the press of the crowds now he would suffocate.

The crowd thickened.

He stumbled when a faceless man bumped against him, sending him into the way of another. The course could not be altered and he found himself knocked to the side again and again, the breath knocked out of him until his shoulders, ribs and arms groaned in pain. Nobody stopped to apologise but kept on walking as if nothing had happened.

Too busy getting on with their lives to be polite.

He hated them.

It seemed like an eternity before he managed to break out of the crowd, gasping as though he was coming up from deep water. Still he felt unsettled and stumbled his way to his apartment, swaying as if drunk, pale and bruised.

The world was tilting around him, sweat trickling down his forehead and into his eyes.

He fell against the wall next to his apartment door and shakily took out his keys. It took a minute that lasted for an eternity for the key to slide into the lock and turn.

His stomach was heaving and without taking the keys from the lock, he stumbled into the bathroom and over to the toilet. He heaved up what little he had in his stomach, racked with dry coughs that made his throat burn and his eyes water.

When the attack at last passed, he managed to get up and walk to the sink. The bathroom mirror, like all the mirrors in his apartment, were covered with thick black cloth and so Jirou had no need to see the sorry state that he was in.

Cupping one hand under the cool running water of the tap while the other supported his weight, Jirou washed his face and rinsed his mouth. The chill of the water spread through his entire body until he was shivering as much of the cold as of the sickness that was in him.

Gathering himself, Jirou returned to the front door where he took his keys before closing it. He locked it once more and made his way to the kitchen.

His entire apartment was bathed in shadows; the windows covered with thick black curtains and kept closed against the sun. There were no light bulbs in the light sockets, nothing that would provide a hint of light in any of the rooms.

If Jirou were in the habit of inviting people to his place, they no doubt would have commented on the sparsity of his furnishings. The rooms were mostly bare but for a few necessary items, and persistently gloomy in spirit. Jirou never invited people over.

In the kitchen the counters and floor were of hard painted wood, the sink of dull white porcelain and the taps covered by a dishtowel that was never removed. Putting the kettle to boil, Jirou took out a small white plastic spoon and thick plastic mug of a deep blue.

His hands gradually stopped shaking as he went through the familiar rituals of making a simple cup of coffee. The claustrophobia of the crowd left him, as did their stink and screeching.

He did not relax.

He was wary.

It was waiting for him.

Behind the black curtains – it was waiting.

---

Rem watched the model from the corner of the room. The shinigami was distressed - a fact that was not immediately obvious and was not made known. There was a shadow, a touch of something evil in the room that was at once familiar to the Shinigami, and completely new. Rem had scanned the room for the root of this new danger and had found it in the shape of a small bronze mirror.

Yellow-slitted eyes had grown large with recognition.

The mirror did not belong.

"Destroy it."

Her words quickly caught Misa's attention and the girl turned to look at the object Rem was referring to. Misa frowned fiercely at her shinigami when she saw that the shinigami had meant the mirror.

"No!"

Misa would have answered further had she not suddenly remembered that she was being watched, the little blinking red light of the camera in the corner a constant reminder to this fact. Hopefully her little slip would not endanger her or her chances of slipping out of the detective's grasp. Shaking her head as if to dislodge unhappy thoughts, Misa continued to get ready.

Misa quickly gave herself a once over in the full-length mirror in her room and satisfied, turned to leave. She picked up her handbag and placed the bronze mirror carefully therein before leaving the room altogether.

Rem's unnatural eyes followed the model as she left with a gaze that was hollow but intense. Without a word the shinigami followed.

Touta Matsuda was waiting for her at her door, ready to fall into the role as her manager once more. She was graced with the incredible opportunity of starring in a romance film with none other than the famous Hideki Ryuga. While she was all smiles and bounce, she could not help but think that Light was more handsome than the blonde actor was.

A limousine awaited them just outside the building's front doors, and Matsuda being the gentleman that he was, held the door open for her and waited until she was seated before climbing in as well. Misa smiled charmingly at the young detective. Misa liked Mastuda-kun; he was the only one who truly treated her like a normal person despite being a suspect. The other detectives were kind on the occasion that she was in their company, but here was always a certain aloofness to the way the treated her.

Misa spent countless hours with various people of various personalities, and she was able to pick up on certain behaviours and moods. A quality that people did not think much of, and certainly did not associate with her.

Misa may not have had a lot of contact with the detectives, but apart from the spider detective, they all shared the same kind of basic body language that was common in most of the Japanese population. Matsuda was the easiest one to read, the most open, and she felt more comfortable in his company than in the company of any of the others. She was glad that it was Matsuda-kun who was acting as her manager.

"Ne. Matsuda-kun, Misa is glad that you are her manager."

Matsuda blinked at her in surprise before flushing at the compliment. She smiled endearingly at him, radiating as much happiness and charm as she could.

"Matsuda-kun is always so nice to Misa. Thank you"

Matsuda tried to find his words, the blush still on his cheeks. His hand went up and behind to scratch the back of his head in embarrassment.

"I-it's my pleasure Misa-san"

"Misa is excited to be working again! Misa only hopes that Misa will do a good job…"

"I'm sure you will be great Misa-san, you always are."

Matsuda's words were awkward, but the sentiment was there. Misa smiled sweetly at him again and commenced with the small talk. Every now and then Misa would find her eyes drawn to look out the window, watching Rem as the shinigami flew beside the moving vehicle.

Those shinigami eyes did not turn from her, but gazed at her with a blankness of expression that was all too natural for a shinigami. To be under such scrutiny from her shinigami made Misa uncomfortable, a fact she tried to counter with forced cheer. Once she had an opportunity alone, Misa would see to it that she spoke to Rem about the mirror, and how it was considered rude to stare.

She was all too happy when the limousine pulled to a stop, Matsuda quickly hopping out so as to open the door for her. Misa felt some of the tension melt away from her as she stepped out into the early morn. She was back in her element. Around her the area was teeming with cars, vans containing various equipment and the people that handled them. Looking at them, it seemed like total chaos, but was in fact organised disorder. Misa had a moment to breathe before she was spotted and dragged off to wardrobe and make-up, Matsuda rushing after her so as not to get himself lost.

---

L was left with a bit to think about after the model had departed. Rewinding the recorded footage, L leaned in for a closer look while turning the volume up.

Misa had been busy getting ready for her day and was fixing her hair into a simple ponytail when she had suddenly paused. L watched once again as the model seemed to stare at an empty spot by the wall before letting her gaze slide to the little bronze mirror. Misa had frowned at the object and responded with a sharply spoken, No! Her expression had shown been panicked for a split second before the cheerfulness returned.

L found this fascinating and had originally felt a chill run down his spine when he first observed this strange behaviour. He recalled the First and Second Kira's mentions of Shinigami, experiencing the same chill.

Was there perhaps some truth to the subject of shinigami?

L tried to convince himself that the answer to that was no, but in light of Kira's ability to somehow kill with only a face and a name, L was forced to consider the possibility of supernatural interference.

L shifted uncomfortably where he sat.

L would never admit to anyone that the idea of the supernatural scared him, even though the investigation team had all bared witness to his panic attack when Second Kira had mentioned shinigami.

It was a good thing that L did not care for the opinions of others, or he may have felt extremely embarrassed after that little episode.

Coming to think of it, Light had been the most composed of all the members when the message had first come through. Was this because of the fact that Light simply did not believe in the supernatural, or was it maybe because he had a familiarity with the subject?

Could it be that the Kiras were in fact shinigami?

Why then say that 'we can reveal our shinigami to each other'? The statement supported the idea that the shinigami was separate from Kira, but perhaps the source of their power.

Still the idea of shinigami – it was so damn illogical that he had trouble accepting it.

…

"You know if you keep on biting your thumb like that, you'll eventually lose it."

L jumped in surprise with a startled yelp, twisting to look wildly behind him. He had not heard anyone enter, had not sensed the presence behind him at all. It would seem that his paranoia was failing him.

L glared at the smug face of Light, wishing to send a well-placed pick into the boy's smirking mouth.

"If Light-kun was not already dead, I would most undoubtedly have been tempted to kill you myself"

L's drawl spoke volumes of his irritation with Light but succeeded only in causing the younger man's amusement to grow.

It would seem that Light had grown even more arrogant in death.

"I see you are still dreaming of me, Ryuuzaki-san."

That uncomfortable feeling that L could now identify as doubt crept into his limbs once more. L was sure that he was not dreaming, and yet here he was sitting crouched on the floor while talking to a dead man. Thoughts of shinigami once more made its way into his conscious.

L's eyes narrowed.

Looking into the eyes of his dead friend, L stood carefully without breaking eye contact. Light was sitting on L's bed, allowing L to tower over him when the detective moved closer.

One thin pale hand shot out and curled around the boy's throat. Light simply tilted his head back, his eyes never leaving the detective's own and watched.

The skin under the detectives hands were without heat, nor was it cold as dead flesh was oft to be. There was no rhythmic pulse against his palm or fingers, no sign of life in the body before his own. His grip tightened around the slender column, but Light made no sign of discomfort and only smiled indulgently at the dark haired man.

"Tell me Light-kun. Are there such things as Shinigami?"

His thumb slowly stroked along the boy's throat, adding pressure as it went while his eyes watched for any changes in Light's face. Seeing no change and not receiving an answer he squeezed harshly before releasing Light and stepping back.

Light's face was expressionless as he stared at the detective. L knew his own face to be calculating, though only Light would have been able to tell it apart from any of his other expressions. The boy's silence was an affirmative.

"What does that make you Light-kun?"

At this something of Light's expression changed. L had seen the uncertainty that had briefly flashed in golden brown eyes, had seen it and filed it away under things to be considered.

Light shook his head, eyes shadowed when they caught L's gaze.

"I don't know"

* * *

**TBC**

**Review!**

**AN: It's good to see that people did not run off after the last chapter with Misa's dream. This will not be Light/Misa, although I feel sympathetic towards the girl. This is another longer chapter, I'm making an effort you see. Also I've put quite a bit in this chapter and I hope it doesn't completely lose you. I have a lot of questions to answer and threads to start tying up, but I hope to keep it interesting and enjoyable to read, while not simply giving it all away. Reviews are greatly appreciated!**


	10. 10: Damned

**Warnings: Language, possible ooc, future yaoi, content that may disturb.**

**Disclaimer: Pink Feline does not own Death Note.**

* * *

**Damned**

The steaming cup was placed on the corner of the desk, it's place marked by new and faded rings of coffee residue from previous nights. The desk was simple wood, unadorned and uncluttered. On its surface was but a notebook and a pen, an overall impersonal collection of items that did little to liven up the space.

The desk was placed in the corner of the room, as far away from the window as the room's dimensions allowed. The room was bare of other furniture, apart from the simple wooden chair that was used in conjunction with the desk. The room was the very appearance of a cell, empty and bare of light, life and comfort.

It suited Jirou just fine.

This room was his sanctuary, his safe haven. Here he could not be disturbed, nor interrupted. The likelihood of either happening was non-existent, but the atmosphere was as he wanted it. It was the mere promise that he could not be touched in this room that made it what it was.

In this room, Jirou was safe.

In this room Jirou was god.

Pulling the chair out, Jirou let himself sit for the first time in hours. The only sound was that of creaking wood as it was forced to accommodate his weight. He sat unmoving for a long time, eyes closed and head tilted back. His breathing, erratic from his ordeal with the crowds, gradually calmed into a slow rhythm. The tenseness in his muscles slowly started to ebb.

Slowly and sluggishly at first, names began to take shape in his mind's eye. The Japanese character for colour, 'aya' and following that the gentle lines of flower, 'ka'. Ayaka. A beautiful woman with a beautiful name that hid the face of a selfish bitch. Jirou could even now imagine the luscious shine of her ebony hair, the sweet blemish free caramel skin of her face and large almond shaped chocolate eyes.

Her lips, oh heavens, her lips were perfect. Small heart shaped, adorably pouted. There was no doubt as to her beauty, no doubt at all.

Her beauty did not fool Jirou though. Whenever she looked at him, he could see the ugly creature she truly was. Her eyes expressed her scorn, her disgust and in so revealing the very shallowness of the woman's soul.

Ayaka.

She would be more beautiful in death when those eyes, those traitorous eyes, were blinded in death. In death, all the darkness would leave her body making her pure and beautiful.

Leaning forward, Jirou let the pen settle comfortably between his fingers and flipped the notebook open. Slowly and with great care, Jirou began to write.

Ayaka – damned for her selfish beauty.

Tsubasa – damned for his arrogance.

Momoka – damned for her ceaseless noise.

Yuuta

Kichirou

Haruki

He wrote each of their names in full, marvelling at the sheer beauty of the characters that gave them their meaning. It was one of the rare instances of beauty that Jirou could honestly enjoy. The beauty of the written word, each complicated stroke that gave it shape. To think that such meaning could be achieved within a few strokes of ink, untainted, honest and stark against the page.

Masaru

Toshiaki

Shinji

Daiki

Madoka

Tomio

Nao

The page had filled up quickly, but with more than just names. He sat back to admire his work, reaching out for the cooling coffee while keeping his eyes firmly trained on the writing. The contrast of black ink against the white of the page was shocking, thrilling, but night was starting to creep in. The darkness in the room seemed to increase tenfold until the room was as black as the ink Jirou used.

The darkness did not bother him.

Even though the notebook was now taken by darkness, Jirou could still see the characters on the page. Each name, beautifully written, and the passages that followed. There was one constant character, written with more care than any other that occurred after each name.

'Tsuki'

---

L woke with a jerk, limbs automatically splaying out to help maintain his balance. Looking around, L found himself very much alone, Light no where in sight.

Another dream then.

The thought gave L no comfort. Settling himself again he tried to relax.

Observations and connections were shooting through his mind erratically and without his control, forcing him so consider all that has happened in the last month. Looking at the computer screen, L found that Misa had yet to return from work, and would not do so for another couple of hours at least. He curled up once more, thumb to lips. Good, so he had some uninterrupted time to think.

Light's murder had occurred roughly a month ago, in his home by the looks of things. His throat had been cut by a sharp, clean blade and drawn slowly over his flesh. The blood splatter had been minimal, taking in consideration the angle of the cut and the natural pressure driving the blood out. The killer had managed to kill Light without his ever-present mother or little sister being aware of it, and had taken his time doing it as well. Light was then placed on the bed, probably straight after his throat was slit, which seemed a somewhat strange action but not uncommon. There were no signs of struggle, and no items were missing apart from the desk drawer. No items of value were taken at all; therefore this was no simple robbery. The killer had been specific in what he wanted, and Light appeared to have managed some kind of safeguard before death. That could only mean that Light was well aware of the potential dangers of whatever he had placed in that drawer.

This leads on to the appearance of the Third Kira. Third Kira had appeared not a week after Light's death, marking each death with the Japanese character 'tsuki'. That meant that the desk drawer had contained the source of Kira's power. Light had been Kira. He had been right. The question now was what was the object? What was Kira's source of power?

Whatever it was, Light's killer now had it in his possession.

An important question to consider would then be - how did the killer know that Light was Kira?

L turned his eyes up in thought, thumb pushing against his bottom lip.

Amongst the Kira victims, there were two that did not fit the pattern. Kyosuke Higuchi and Arayoshi Hatori. Both were high-ranking Yostuba Corporation managers, neither fitting into the criminal category that Kira seemed to favour. There was the possibility that Kira had somehow been tipped off that these two men were caught up in some kind of criminal activity. Considering the strange coincidences that surrounded the Yosuba Corp employee's deaths however, another theory was presented.

According to the data collected, Yotsuba Corp had been enjoying a stead rise in share prices, aided by the death of rival company employees. These 'accidents' however ceased shortly after Higuchi's death, causing Yotsuba shares to drop slightly and their rivals to rise. After this point there did not seem to be any more suspicious events involving Yotsuba or associated and rival companies.

It was plausible therefore that Higuchi was a Kira, for however brief a time it may have been. Arayoshi Hatori's death did not seem to hold any meaning or purpose, unless perhaps Hatori had tried to expose Higuchi in some way. Somehow L did not think that Hatori's death held any significance.

So who killed Higuchi?

That was events as they stood currently. Two Kiras dead and two more still running free.

Watari's voice cut through his thoughts, the gothic 'W' taking over his computer's screen.

"Kira has been killing again. I am sending you the list and profiles of each victim now. None of the deaths have yet been announced."

A folder popped up on the screen, filled with various files and documents. Misa was not due to return for another two hours at least, so L decided to start skimming over the files. Watari's words had been brief, but his last statement had held an ominous quality. Soon enough L understood why.

None of the victims on the list were criminals. From their profiles and records the victims were, to all knowledge, civilians.

L felt his blood run cold.

Kira's focus had apparently shifted from killing criminals killing innocent civilians.

Photos were provided for each death and sure enough they were each marked with 'tsuki' on their foreheads, Third Kira's signature.

These deaths would create absolute chaos amongst the people. So far people had been living in the comfort that Kira's attentions were solely on criminals. To expose such naivety would only create panic and disorder.

This also put the investigation under a whole new load of pressure. Their progress had been slow thus far, but they had to speed it up. These thirteen deaths could be covered up for the time being, but if Third Kira were going to continue killing amongst the population then sooner, rather than later, it would be exposed. The level of outrage that it would generate could have dire consequences that could cripple the country.

A clue to Kira's identity could possibly be derived from whatever connection these thirteen victims had with each other. They would definitely start there.

There was also the possibility that Misa had a part in this…

Someone out there was laughing at him.

L was sure off this.

He had barely finished his previous thought when L had been alerted to an incoming call.

Matsuda was on the other line. A very panic stricken Matsuda.

"Misa's gone!"

---

Misa slipped quietly into her apartment, frowning in dismay at the stale air inside. A thin layer of dust coated everything, and the drawn curtains allowed very little light inside. Misa cast a mournful eye over what had been her home. She could not stay long, that she knew. No doubt Matsuda had alerted the spider detective of her absence. Guilt settled at the pit of her stomach. She felt bad that she was getting the man into trouble, he had been so nice to her after all. She had a promise to keep though and she only hoped that Matsuda-kun would not get into too much trouble.

Stepping lightly, Misa walked to her bedroom, Rem shadowing her movements. She moved over to her wardrobe, crouched down and reached into it's shadows. She pulled out a shoebox, its surface decorated with sparkling heart and star shaped stickers. Settling the box in her lap, she removed the lid and left it on the floor at her side. The box contained three different wigs; each made of human hair in different styles and colours.

She pulled out the short black bob and left it on the lid. She had worn that wig the one time that she had gone to Note Blue in order to catch sight of Kira. She did not know if she had been caught on any photos that day, but she could not risk being noticed and connected with that day. She had to try and remain as anonymous as possible.

She took out a long dark auburn wig with a long thick fringe. It was longer in length than her natural hair by about an inch, and the fringe would cover her forehead while stopping just above her eyes. She carefully put the wigs into a bag before putting the black haired wig back into the box and replacing the lid. She returned the box to it's hiding place and went over to her vanity.

With careful and expert consideration, she selected out of an assortment of make-up and added them to her bag. With that done, Misa went into the kitchen and pulled out a broom and a rag. She quickly set to work on sweeping the floor and wiping all the surfaces, erasing her footprints and handprints from the layers of dust. If the detectives were to search her apartment it would be obvious she had been there, but they would not be able to mark where she had walked and what she had touched. It was not fool proof but it was something.

Misa giggled softly to herself. She felt almost as if she was playing a part in one of those 'James Bond' movies that was so popular in the western countries. She knew this was a serious matter and if she was caught she could well die, but it was all so surreal.

With that done she exited the apartment, locking the door behind her. She slipped into the crowds outside easily enough, carried by its flow until she came to a clothing shop. She entered and examined the layout of the store and walking to the back, found what she was looking for.

Sophisticated dresses, skirts and blouses were displayed in various subdued shades. Misa chose a long beige skirt, white blouse and brown jacket. Considering the items she took a few more assorted items before moving to the counter to pay.

Before Misa had gone to her apartment she had withdrawn a tidy amount of cash. Her credit cards could be traced and so to minimise the risk of being found she had come up with the idea. She felt a bit vulnerable with so much money in her bag, conscious that she would be in trouble if it was stolen, but she had to risk it.

From the clothing store she proceeded to look for a ladies bathroom that she could slip into. It took a good couple of minutes but she eventually found one and entered. There were two other girls, chatting excitedly with each other as they fixed their make-up. Misa entered a cubicle and closed the door, completely ignoring the girls and hoping that they would not recognise her. Taking out one of the outfits she had just bought, she quickly undressed and changed into the new items. The clothing was not what she was used to, preferring her short skirts and tops to the long skirts and blouses. The opening of the bathroom door and the fading voices of the two girls indicated that Misa was alone.

Pulling out the wig, Misa stepped out of the cubicle and faced the mirror. The clothing made her look older, hiding her slim legs and figure. She wasted no more time though and pinned her hair up before putting on the wig. She spent a minute adjusting it until it sat and looked natural. From her bag of items she took out the make-up and began applying it. Misa had learned a couple of tricks from the make-up artists during her photo shoots and modelling. Using what she learned; Misa proceeded to change her face into an illusion of being different.

The Misa that stared at her from the mirror was not one she recognised. She looked older and held the semblance of a teacher or even a simple housewife. Perhaps a bit young for that, but she did not look herself in any case which was the purpose of all this preparation.

The door opened to another woman who joined Misa at the mirrors, her hands digging through her purse. The woman looked frazzled and barely acknowledged Misa which was fine with the model. Packing her stuff, Misa slipped out of the bathroom feeling like a whole different person.

She drifted with the crowd for some time, aimless and finding comfort in her shinigami's presence. Rem had been quiet ever since telling her to destroy the mirror and had not taken her eyes off Misa the entire time. Misa had simply decided to ignore her shinigami's staring eyes and continue undisturbed. She had a feeling that Rem would tell her to destroy the mirror again and she was not in the mood to hear it.

It was getting well into evening now, the creeping darkness making the girl feel isolated. She had to find a place to spend the night, a place where no one would inquire as to who she was.

Her hand drifted to the bag at her side once more, reaching in to feel the cool hard surface of the bronze mirror, her one connection to Light.

He had asked her to trust him, to do as he said and she had agreed. She did trust him. Even in death she trusted him.

* * *

**TBC**

** Review!**

**AN: It's quite funny, after I wrote Jirou's section I decided to find out how many words it came up to, something I do with every chapter. To my surprise, Jirou's bit came up to 666 words. I almost fell out of my chair it was so unexpected. Heh. Well my apologies for the late chapter, it has been a bit busy lately. Hope you enjoyed this chapter though!**


	11. 11: Conversations

**Warnings: Language, possible ooc, future yaoi, content that may disturb.**

**Disclaimer: Pink Feline does not own Death Note.**

**Conversations**

It was late evening when Misa finally managed to find a room to stay for the night. The overall quality and disposition of the place was considerably less than what she had been used to considering her status as a star, but Misa was not complaining. It was a very small price to pay. She took in the run-down interior of the rooms and found it to be clean and tidy, only worn. She walked over to the bed and flopped face down on it. She stayed this way for a good couple of minutes, simply breathing in and out to ease her nerves. Running away like that was very dangerous business; Light had even warned her that she would most likely get caught sooner or later. L had vast resources and experience on his side and Misa was hardly a brilliant cold-blooded criminal. Even she could admit to that.

All she needed was to stay out of the police's clutches long enough because if she got caught she would most likely never get a chance again. Misa had no intention of breaking her promise to Light and therefore had no intention of getting caught until she had done what her love had asked of her. Before she could start dozing, Misa rolled ono her back and stared up at the ceiling.

She absently pulled the wig off and sighed as the itchiness that had crawled over her scalp lessened. With a heavy sigh, the model sat up and turned her attention to her shinigami.

Rem's piercing gaze had hardly left her the whole day and now that there was little else to occupy her mind, Misa found that it bothered her terribly. Now that Rem had Misa's attention she said it once more.

"Destroy it."

Misa frowned at Rem, irritation starting to build.

"Rem, I already told you I won't."

Rem simply kept staring with her unnerving yellow eyes, unaffected by the girl's scorn.

"Why do you want me to break it anyway? It's only a mirror, and Light's gift too. I know you didn't like him Rem, is that why you want me to destroy it? Huh?"

Misa's voice had taken on a childlike resentment, pouting in irritation. Rem remained unaffected and her gaze steady. The two glared at each other in silence for a minute before Misa turned away, flicking her hair of her shoulder in a flippant gesture. 

"Whatever. I am not going to destroy it Rem."

The shinigami did not reply, her eye rolling to the bag containing the object in question. After another moment of silence, Misa broke it once more, her face turned back to the shinigami and her gaze curious.

"Hey Rem. You told me that Light had told you to find some sleaze to be Kira for a bit right?"

The shingami gave a short nod.

"So then why did you return the Death Note to me?"

Rem's monotonous voice came slowly, eyes slightly narrowed as she gazed at the model.

"With Light's death, I saw no reason to continue following his orders."

Misa gave a nod to assert that she understood.

"What was his name?"

"Kyosuke Higuchi"

"Ah. So how did you get him to give up the Death Note?"

"I killed him"

Misa looked down in thought, silence settling over the room once more. It was quickly broken again.

"So then you dropped the Death Note in my changing rooms at work so that I would be the one to pick it up."

Misa flopped back onto the bed and closed her eyes, bringing her arm up to cover her eyes.

"Who killed him, Rem?"

The sad far away tone the girl's voice had taken was the only indication that Misa was actually referring to Light this time.

"I don't know."

"So how did you know that Light was dead?"

Green eyes were once more trained on the shinigami from beneath the shadows of her arm, no less intense for it.

"Higuchi had been listening to the news when Light's death was broadcasted."

"So you didn't know until then?"

"No"

Misa frowned and turned on her side, head tilted down as she regarded Rem. Standing up, Misa walked to the collection of bags she had collected during her shopping trip. She rummaged around for something to eat, only half of her attention on Rem.

"Can't a shinigami sense when a person dies or something?"

The question was asked offhandedly as Misa pulled out a cup of ramen, standing up to go to the mini kitchen.

"Yes"

Rems answer was low, but Misa heard it none-the-less. The model paused and turned back to the shinigami with confusion.

"So then why…?

"Because Light never crossed over…"

The onset of night had filled the apartment with an inky darkness with only the faintest traces of moonlight creeping around the edges of the drawn curtains. An uncanny silence had settled with the darkness, not even the muffled sounds of the outside world managing to break in. When he lifted his hand to the level of his face, he could not see it.

He was drowning in shadow.

The calm of his sanctuary deserted him, anxiety and bitter fear coming unbidden. He had suffered the same for many nights now and knew that he would never grow used to it. Every night was the same.

The unnatural darkness.

The absence of outside noise.

The fear.

Half of the atmosphere was his doing, his insistence that there be no light allowed anywhere in the apartment. Had light been permitted, Jirou highly doubted the fear would have lessened any.

He sat unmoving, his eyes closed as he attempted to still his flighty heart. His limbs were staring to feel heavy, continuous stress working him down with fatigue and wariness. He needed to sleep, just a couple of hours and no more. A low chuckle behind him made him jump in surprise. Jirou levelled a glare at the grinning shinigami that had appeared by the window, not in the least bit amused.

Jirou felt no comfort in shinigami Ryuks company and remained tense whenever the death god was around. Ryuk was too close to the monster he took such pains to avoid and therefore an unpredictable and unwelcome ally.

If he could, Jirou would have banished the shinigami all together. The creature was absolutely useless and only cost him a fortune in apples. Jirou was not about to upset a creature of supernatural origin though and so tolerated it.

"You're back"

The grinning shinigami chuckled again. Jirou did not stare at it long, closing his eyes and wishing the night away. In the dark, the shinigami's eyes glowed much like cat's eyes were oft to do. That the faintest outline of the grotesquely malformed face framed the glowing eyes made the picture all the more frightening.

Ignoring the shinigami, Jirou stood and flipped the notebook closed. He paused at the door, building the courage to step into the dark hallway. He was aware of the shinigami's eyes following his every move. He ignored it.

Stepping out of his sanctuary, Jirou carefully closed the door before proceeding to the living room. There he sat down on the couch and put his head in his hands. Somewhere in his apartment, a soft scraping noise made itself known, echoing loudly in the silence. Jirou turned and lay down on his back on the couch. He lay listening to the noise for some time before sleep and wariness dragged him down. In the morning he would find that a part the cloth covering the bathroom mirror had come loose, exposing a small corner of the surface beneath.

L was once again alone at the IHQ, having tent the other detectives on a mission to find the runaway model. With the lack of police cooperation in the Kira case and the celebrity status of their suspect, getting help from the Japanese authorities would be more troublesome than worthwhile. That left the detectives to do it and seeing as they could, at this time, contribute little to the case it was no great loss to divert their attentions elsewhere.

L was confident that Misa could be caught and quickly too. The model hardly had any criminal experience under her belt after all apart from the mysterious Kira method of killing.

L returned his attention to the data he had been reading.

Looking at the data and profiles of each of the newest Kira victims, they all lived in the Tokyo are but that was the extent of their similarities. They were all of different age, had different jobs and had varying degrees of social and relational ties. Either they were all chosen at random, or they had all done something to catch Third Kira's attention. 

The victims did however point to the fact that Third Kira was in the Tokyo area either as a permanent resident or visiting, most likely the former. Now that they had an even smaller area to look into, which was heartening.

Putting the files aside, L sat back on the chair and looked contemplatively at the ceiling. It was already late in the evening, almost morning and well past most people's bedtime. L stood and stretched slowly, before ambling out of the room and to his own.

L was going to try a little experiment. L had been thinking a lot about his dreams concerning Light and had found them to be strangely suspicious. He had never been prone to falling asleep so often nor so suddenly. Add the fact that the dream lacked any 'normal' dreamlike qualities and the mysterious appearance of the pen in the medicine cabinet and L became suspicious. His interactions with Light had revealed to him various pieces of information, which in itself was strange. It was almost as if in all instances he had indeed been interacting with the real Light.

Impossible.

But so were shinigami. Then again, it's not as if L had ever seen a shinigami so that was perhaps not so great a comparison. After all, could L trust the word of a dead criminal? It was all very illogical, which was why l was going to do this.

L paused and looked down at his bed. He had not slept in it since Lights death and found himself hesitating. Shaking himself he pulled the covers back and slipped into its comforting embrace. L curled up on his side and stared into the dark, not having bothered switching the light on in the first place. L willed sleep to take him, but his mind was restless and unused to the concept of forced sleep.

Frowning L closed his eyes and tried to relax. L felt a bit like an idiot but he stayed put. After what seemed like an eternity L finally gave up on the notion of sleep. He sat up and clawed his way from the blankets embrace. L scowled briefly at the bed as if it was at fault for his suddenly inconvenient insomnia. A chuckle made him look to the door where Light was unsurprisingly observing him. L only blinked, used to these sudden appearances. It probably meant that L had fallen asleep and had simply been unaware of it.

"Light-kun"

"Ryuuzaki-san"

Silence reigned briefly between the two as they stared at each other.

"So what did you want Ryuuzaki-san?"

L blinked at the question but did not answer. Light only sighed, exasperated with the detective already.

"You are the one who wanted to speak with me Ryuuzaki-san otherwise you would not have made yourself sleep like a normal person."

L narrowed his yes at this. He was beginning to doubt these 'dreams'. Light noticed the change in the detective but made no comment.

"What is this?"

L's voice was flat, his expression serious as he indicated the room. Light merely cocked his head to the side and shrugged.

"It's your room?" Light ventured innocently and abruptly turned and left the room. 

L followed quickly behind his retreating friend, finding himself in the living room as he stepped out. This was inconsistent with the actual layout of the floor at IHQ, which only cemented the fact that it was a dream. However dreams were not meant to be like this, not meant to follow on and feel so incredibly real.

"You are Kira."

Light had been about to enter the kitchen when he heard the detective speak. He paused in the doorway and turned to the other. Light's features were as blank as L kept his, giving nothing away.

"I know you are the First Kira"

Light's eyes narrowed slightly in anger. When he spoke his voice was clipped.

"I hope you did not come all this way to start accusing me, Ryuuzaki-san. I have heard it often enough and it is quickly becoming redundant."

"It is the truth though isn't it, Kira-kun?"

Light's body had grown tense as he moved closer to the detective, stopping within arms reach of the detective.

"What do you want Ryuuzaki?"

"It should be obvious Kira-kun. I want answers"

"Like what?"

"How does Kira kill?"

Light considered the detective in silence before shaking his head slightly.

"I've already given you a clue in that regard"

L raised an eyebrow at this but considered the events of the past weeks.

"You give them killer ballpoint pens?"

Light scoffed at L's mocking tone, eyes narrowed still in irritation though the touches of a smile curled at the corners of his mouth.

"The pen is mightier than the sword. I'm sure you're familiar with the phrase, Ryuuzaki. Consider it."

Light turned away from L and was about to walk away before L's next words hit.

"I'm disappointed. To think the great Kira was killed by a common criminal. Ironic wouldn't you say?"

Light pivoted around, his fist meeting the size of Ryuuzaki's face. Ryuuzaki would have retaliated had he not fallen out of bed at that very moment. Temporarily stunned, L slowly stood from his position on the floor. He was in alone in his room once more. A dull on the side of his face led L to the bathroom where he headed for the mirror. Sure enough a bruise was starting to form on his cheek.

How curious.

* * *

**TBC.**

**Review!**

**AN: Alright, I suppose you can say good bye to the quick updates. It took me a while to write this chapter (version 3) and I am certain this others will also be slow in coming. It would seem I hit writer's block somewhere along the way, which is rather inconvenient when writing a story. I hope this chapter hasn't suffered for it though. Thoughts and comment are always appreciated. Cheers.**


	12. 12: Desolation

**Warnings: Language, possible ooc, future yaoi, content that may disturb.**

**Disclaimer: Pink Feline does not own Death Note.**

**Desolation**

How curious.

L was crouched on his seat once more, an ice cream cone held in one hand from which he licked every so often. He had been going over the results of his mini experiment with 'dream Light', considering the younger man's actions and reactions.

L had used very simple and childish barbs, random little statements and accusations that followed no clear pattern and that Light should have been able to see through. L knew through experience that it actually took quite a bit to get Light riled up enough for a physical fight, bar some past occasions. Therefore, considering what L knew of Light, the detective came to the conclusion that Light was preoccupied and under a good deal of pressure and or stress. The teen's shoulders had been stiff, his eyes distant and his responses somewhat lacking.

When L had accused Light of being the first Kira, the boy had not even tried to deny such a statement but had immediately gone on the defensive, demanding to know what the detective wanted. The boy had simply…given in.

That was very unusual, that Light would do so. The fact that the boy was dead may have been a big factor to this strange behaviour.

Yet.

The situation was strange enough, and L had yet to categorise it. There was a possibility that all these 'dream events' were mere creations of his over-active mind, concerning an obsession based on foreign feelings of comradeship that had developed between him and his suspect. However, the bruise that had blossomed over his cheek implied that there was a great deal amount more substance involved. He would review the tapes in his room soon, just to confirm that it had not been himself, in midst of dreaming, that had accidentally thrown him from the bed.

He was briefly side tracked at the thought of the cameras. Without Lights presence there were no need for the continued surveillance of his room, but he did not ask Watari to disconnect them. In situations like these, it may just offer some insight into this strange phenomena he was experiencing.

Still, from what he had gathered, Light had reacted strangely to a few childish taunts that the boy should have been able to see through. If these occurrences were real, then Light was preoccupied in a stressful situation and on edge, though he hid it well. The boy had also freely given information about Kira's method of killing, confirming L's belief that the pen was a significant clue. In Light's answer, the teen had basically confirmed that he had indeed been Kira.

L imagined that admitting to such a thing was hardly consequential to Light any longer, which made it somewhat frustrating that the teen refused to give any straight answers. Then again, it made the case so much more interesting and L would most likely have lost interest all together had Light given him the answers he wanted.

Considering the pen as a clue to Kira's method of killing, L could conclude that to kill, something had to be written down. This tied in with the theory that Kira needed a name and a face to kill. That was why Light couldn't kill him, because he didn't know L's name.

In some mythologies, a person's name was said to contain the very essence of a person. If someone had the knowledge of a person's name, they essentially had power over that person. They might have been right to some degree, considering what clues L had.

So, if perhaps the name of the victim had to be written down, it would be plausible that the one writing would have to know the face of the victim as well. It was not uncommon in any culture to find one or more people with the same name, so to specifically kill one person who might share a name with another, you had to know exactly who you were killing.

So Kira killed by writing down names – but on what? Which was the more significant tool? The pen, or the surface on which the name was written? Maybe it was not the tool, but an inherent ability that is manifested through the writing of a name. That did not fit very well with past events though. No, this power could be passed on from one person to the next, which made it more probable, that it was a tool used for killing.

It was not the pen, so the surface then.

A book most likely, loose pages would be inconvenient and wood or such like were bulky and obvious. No, such a tool would have to appear innocent, to blend in with most surroundings. A book, or a pad of paper was the most sensible and natural choice.

It was a hard concept to grasp, but L's mind was more than capable of it. Who would have thought that books existed with the power to kill?

The book had been in the drawer that had been taken with Light's killer, but had the killer known this from the beginning?

From what L knew, the Yagami family had not returned to their home but was residing with Soichiro's wife's family. The house had been left as is, Soichiro planning on moving to a new house in the near future.

"Watari, I want the full report of the investigation into Yagami Light's death including any evidence that may have been garnered from the scene of the crime."

Light's room contained four bookcases, plus the bookshelf that was attached to the desk. There was a fair amount of books in the teen's room, and as L had learned, not all of them were authentic. Light used the sheer number of books to hide dubious content within hollow book casings. Unless the killer had know straight away that the book was in the drawer, he would most likely have had to browse through the mini library before coming to the conclusion that the killing book was in the drawer. Therefore, clues might have been left that were overlooked during the initial forensic search.

He would have to employ his own sources on investigating the matter, after getting the permission of Soichiro off course, not that the man's answer would deter him either way.

It was slow going, but L was growing confident that this mystery could be solved. What would come after, he did not dwell on.

()

Misa had been staring out at the world beyond the window of her rented room. Time was wasting and the longer she waited the bigger the possibility that she would be caught. She had to find the identity of Light's killer.

The model turned to look at her shinigami, whose eyes were steadily watching her from the corner of the room.

"Rem"

Misa walked over to the bed and sat down, her demeanour serious.

"I want to do the eye trade again."

Rem's answer was quick and low and entirely expected.

"No"

Misa sighed in exasperation and annoyance.

"Please! I need the shinigami eyes if I am to find the person that killed Light. Light told me that whoever had killed him had taken the Death Note. Light and Misa Misa are the only ones with Death Notes, so if I find another Death Note user…"

"That person may not have been the one to kill Light. The Death Note may have passed through a number of hands since then. No, Misa, you have already made the deal once. If you make it again your life will be halved once more."

Misa jumped up, angry tears welling in her eyes. The girl was frustrated. She was stuck here, afraid of going outside and being caught by L and Rem was not co-operating. She was in a situation unlike any she had ever been in before and her previous bravado was quickly fading as the true nature of the consequences that would follow if she got caught began to sink in.

"I have nothing to live for if I can't avenge Light! If you don't do the trade Rem, I will kill myself!"

Misa sank down onto the floor, her arms coming up to press against her chest, her hands fisting against her mouth.

Rem watched the sobbing girl with the same unreadable expression that she bore in any circumstances.

"Very well"

Misa's sobs turned into sniffles as she turned tear filled eyes on her deathly guardian. To give half her life to bring Light's killer to justice was a sacrifice that she would be willing to make a hundred times over. She only hoped that her shortened life span would not get in the way of her mission. It would not be very funny if she died the next morning due to the deal.

No, she would stay positive. She would go out tomorrow, and she would look for the man who had killed Light.

Even if it was in a crowd of a good thousand in number.

()

The silence was suffocating, deathly and unnatural. It filled the room with an almost tangible presence, a force that dragged at him, slowly sapping his strength. The world around him was cold and lacking the vibrancy that was life, a desolate replica of a world he used to be part off. Sometimes the sheer isolation that he found himself in made his lungs choke, the breath catching in his throat until he collapsed from lack of oxygen.

_However darkness never came, death never came. The very act of breathing, the choking, the pain was all merely a product of his mind._

_He didn't need to breathe._

_Pain no longer existed._

_It was all in his mind. _

_The world he saw when he looked out of the window of his self made prison - all were created by his mind. An empty memory manifested on a plane that existed not in the physical and yet did not transcend into the spiritual._

_He was stuck somewhere in between life and death, bound by some invisible force. Captured and caged, a bird wilting in it's loss of flight and freedom._

_This mental pain, the anguish of self-awareness in a plane of non-existences, translated into physical pain that filled his entire being._

_The pain would lessen, those times when a certain dark haired insomniac found his way into this strange world. The familiarity of his presence, the solidity of his existence, acting as an unorthodox temporary relief to his torment. Yet these instances were few and far in between._

_Now._

_Darkness was starting to creep into the already depressing landscape, darkness that that fostered a foreign intelligence. The bitter taste of hate and the pungent odour of death preceding its coming in waves._

_He had met this intelligence before, seen it and tasted its breath. He could still remember its touch on his skin, the blinding sickness that followed._

_It was coming._

_In silence._

_Alone._

()

"L"

"Yes Yagami-san?"

"We just received a call from police headquarters. Amane Misa was found dead this afternoon at a hotel in Tokyo. It would seem that she committed suicide."

"…"

**TBC**

**Review!**

**My apologies for the late and short chapter. My plans have changed slightly for this story, ideas I got one night before I fell asleep. Also I don't have anything against Misa.**


	13. 13: A Step back

**Chapter 13: A step back.**

The light of the sun warmed her, the steady 'clicking' of her heels on pavement a familiar and steady beat. For a few moments she could pretend that all was fine with the world, that she was carefree and unshadowed by death and grief. A few minutes of simply being a girl, no, a woman again. She had in all this time, forgotten what it was like to simply be Amane Misa, singer, model and star. Successful, young, beautiful and without lack for anything.

Knowing what she did, experiencing all that she had since death came to her door…in many ways she could say they were her greatest moments in life. Light had given her purpose, had admitted that it was not love that bound him to her, but had accepted her anyway. He had not fallen at her feet, as many men were oft to do. He had in no way taken advantage of her to which she had not agreed, but had been loyal and gentle in his handling of her.

She was his tool, precious and important. She had what he did not and could therefore aid him in his quest for a beautiful innocent world. She had offered herself as a tool, but had failed in saving him.

Yes, even through all this pain and sorrow, to have met Light, she wouldn't have changed it for the world.

It was with his name, memories of him and his very voice deep in her mind that she walked down the street. She had but a small bag hung over one shoulder, resting at her hip. Though it was small in size, one small piece of paper held therein gave it a terrible weight. It was dangerous to have it, though not the complete Death Note, but with enough evidence to link her as the Second Kira.

Still her stride was full with a little bounce. It felt great to be amongst the people again, an anonymous face, unrestrained and watched. She hummed softly to herself, a soft happy tune that spoke of love. She could not remember the song's name or even more than half the words, but that simple melody was heartening and sweet. And stuck in her head. She let out a soft musical laugh, to think and be irritated with such mundane problems as having a song stuck in one's head.

Misa was once more starting to feel human.

She calmed herself though and focused her attention as her vision turned red. Thousands of characters, scrawled messily in bone white above each person revealed names and numbers, to which she had no care to try and decipher. She simply wanted a name, one uncoupled by the very numbers that was constant with every other name. The name of the one whom had killed the only man she had ever loved.

There were hundreds of faces around her and so she chose a small café in which to watch. She chose a seat by the window, mindful of being seen but unwilling to risk the chance of the killer slipping by her. She was quick in ordering her tea before resting her chin on her hand and gazing curiously at the people streaming past.

Though she was careful to examine each and every face, she found none that bore the telltale signs of being a Death Note user. It was now the third day of watching, choosing a café further along each time in hopes of finding one along the killer's path. She did not allow herself to think of the ridiculous immensity of her task, knowing that she would loose all heart if she did. Those times when such feelings came so close, Misa simply envisioned Lights face as he had appeared to her in her dream.

Gentle, peaceful and with the dull edges of anger and fatigue. The heat and strength of his body as he held her in his arms. She was doing this for him, and if she had to spend a lifetime looking for Third Kira, so be it.

Rem watched idly from the shadows at the girls back, glassy catlike eyes trained on the girl and her environment. Endlessly scanning, looking and examining for any threats. A shinigami weakened to the will of one human, guileless, innocent and pure in it's own way.

Rem knew, in the heart that she was not meant to have, that her presence in Misa life had done nothing but bring trouble to the girl. This situation she was now in was due in part to Light, but more so because of Rem. It was an unforgiving situation, a deed done with good intentions but reaping only in sorrow. Though it pained her greatly, Rem could not deny that for more than a year now, Light had been the only one to truly make Misa smile.

Misa stared out at the masses beyond the window of the coffee shop, struggling to keep her thoughts from drifting. She had to keep alert, and started slightly when Rem spoke.

"Misa, we have to leave."

Misa looked at Rem from the corner of her eye briefly, wondering at the audible tenseness in her guardians' voice.

"Why?"

The word slipped out easily under her breath, low enough that no one but the intended shinigami would hear. For once Misa seemed inclined to listen to Rem without argument or fuss as she stood, not waiting for an explanation. Already the girl was gathering her stuff in preparation to leave, tea still cooling in her cup. Misa knew that she needed to trust the shinigami, relying on her supernatural abilities to venture safely outside. Rem was tense would could only mean that something bad was coming.

Misa paused for a deep breath as she stepped out of the coffee shop, before turning towards her temporary home. Though Rem was more watchful and on edge than usual, it was Misa that first spotted Kanzo Mogi amongst the crowd.

Feeling as though her blood had turned to ice, Misa froze in panic. The police officer did not appear to have spotted her yet, and even then it would take a couple of moments to see through her disguise. Calming her pounding heart, Misa twirled around and swept the other way. Her step was a bit too fast, a little too jerky to avoid suspicion and she could practically feel his gaze burning into the back of her head. She was very thankful for the wig she wore; thanking the relative anonymity is provided her. Those few seconds of doubt that would keep him from following her immediately.

She breathed deeply, drew herself a little straighter and broadened her stride. She was a mere businesswoman who had gone out for a cup of tea and was running late in returning to work. That was the image she needed to project to others, all that she had to do was avoid looking back. It would be highly suspicious if she did, though the temptation to do so was almost more than she could bear.

With her heart pounding and her senses on high alert she walked without direction, wanting merely to get away from Kanzo-san.

"Rem, is he following?"

She finally managed to get the courage to breathe out the question that was currently haunting her. When she was met with silence, she stopped in her hurried pace. With much trepidation she turned around to find herself very much alone. There were fewer people here, groups scattered around and moving swiftly, easily ignoring all those sharing the street.

Rem was nowhere in sight, a fact that unsettled Misa greatly. She could not remember a time when she had felt so alone and vulnerable without the shinigami's presence. The short time when she had not possessed her memory of the Death Note did not count, considering that she could not miss what she didn't know was missing.

Rem would never just leave her so suddenly and without warning, and that simple fact was terrifying. Unsure whether to wait or keep on walking, Misa hesitated. Looking back the way she came, she saw no sign of Kanzo Mogi or any other police officer or detective.

Nervous, the girl took to walking again, her pace slower in her uncertainty, her eyes scanning for any sign of her missing friend. By doing so, Misa failed to notice, briefly, where she was walking and screamed in surprise as she collided with another. Winded slightly from the impact, Misa stood carefully and bowed in apology to the man she had walked into. It was when she looked up at him that fear stilled her heart.

The man's appearance was ordinary, with a rounded face, short black hair and average build. Despite such common features, there was a wildness that clung to the man that was chilling. A sharpness to his dark eyes, bruised as they were with what appeared to be stress and lack of sleep, that was nerve wracking in it's intensity. There were remnants of Ryuuzaki in that face, though this man lacked the intelligent and blank countenance of the sugar-loving detective. None of this was what had truly shocked her though. Instead it was not only the curious lack of remaining years that should have been floating beneath his name, but the very absence of the name itself.

It was clear the man was wearing no mask, and the names of all others on the street were as clear to her as the light of day. It could not be denied that this man, who was even now glaring balefully at her, had no name. This seemed an impossible idea, for all humans, no matter what state or rank, had a name by which to be identified. For this man to not have a name would only suggest that he was already dead or not human to start with.

With this more than uncomfortable thought in mind, Misa found herself very much like a deer caught in headlights. She stammered some form of apology, trying desperately to pull away from the man's gaze but feeling strangely drained by the action. She searched blindly for her guardian once more, cold sweat coating her skin and her lungs gasping for air. The world seemed to be spinning around her, a disorientating experience that made her balance hard to find.

It all came to a sudden halt, the ground settling beneath her feet and all feelings of panic fading away. A new feeling of apathy settled over her, her problems and her fears melting into a pleasing darkness.

Light was dead and Rem had abandoned her.

There was neither anger nor sorrow at the thought, only a lingering hollowness where such emotion should have been.

Light was dead and finding his killer was an impossible task. What had she thought, a mere actor, she would achieve when the greatest detective in the world could not figure it out? She had been foolish, had acted in pride. She could not do it.

She had failed Light.

So, what could she do? To return to the headquarters would mean to be imprisoned again, and she couldn't keep running…she was already so exhausted. Tired. Listless.

What could she do?

Suicide.

Such a strange notion, but strangely so right. To commit suicide would be to die, to die, she would be able to be reunited with Light.

Yes. Suicide sounded right. Sounded…

…good.

**TBC**

**Review?**

**AN: A somewhat lacking chapter after such a long absence yes? It is necessary though as everything plays a part. Anyway, I will start the next chapter shortly, so hopefully it would not be too long in coming.**

**Thank you to all those who reviewed last chapter, I was very much encouraged simply by the fact that you commented in some way, and such lovely comments they were too. Thanks too to all the alert-ers, this story seems to be very popular if your count is anything to go by, so that in itself is encouraging.**


	14. 14: Rem

**Chapter 14: Rem**

L had to keep himself from twitching in paranoia as he entered the somewhat shabby hotel. He hated the idea of coming out into public, though he had done so often before in terms of attending To-Oh with Light for a short while. Still the paranoia ate at him, though he pushed it gently to the side. He needed his paranoia to survive, as long as it didn't interfere with his work.

The Kira team entered the room Misa had been staying in, all except L pausing in the doorway. The room was rather small though at least decently furnished. There was an old musty smell that lingered, though it was faint and hardly of noteworthy importance. The bedroom was separate, a small living area with a small kitchen the only other room. Entering the bedroom, L found Misa curled up on her side on the bed, a peaceful expression over her face.

L's eyes narrowed at the way that Misa's posture mirrored that of Light when he was found dead on his room. Only there was no gash across the model's throat, no sign of bruising or blood at all. Walking closer he found that her wrists were crossed over each other, nestled against her chest in the foetal position. Yes, this was almost exactly the way that Light's body had been found, and as if to mock him, the mirror was clutched tightly in her grip. The mirror was face down however, where Light had been found with the mirror facing up. Whether this was of any significance, L was as of yet unsure.

It did, however, plant the idea that Misa's suicide might not have been what it appeared. In the dead girl's other hand, a small empty pill bottle was found, enough of the label showing to confirm that it was sleeping pills. Apparently Misa had taken the whole lot and was well past the point of saving by the time her body had been discovered.

By all appearances, Misa had committed suicide, but L was wary in simply accepting such a diagnosis just yet.

The other detectives joined him shortly while keeping to the small living area, a small select team of forensic specialists spreading through the room. L had carefully picked the team, people he knew would be discreet and had worked for him in the past. They did not know him as L and thought him merely another spokesperson for the mysterious detective. To employ them now was the only sure way that he would get all the evidence in tact and without hassle.

It had been a hassle enough getting the Japanese police force to leave this particular case to them.

L moved carefully around the small bedroom, looking for anything particularly out of place or noteworthy. A small black handbag sat on the bedside table to which L moved curiously. Carefully picking up the bag while trying to keep minimal contact, he turned it over and watched as a few items rolled out onto the bedside table. A small round tube that he managed to identify as lipstick, a small black purse, a pen and the torn corner of a piece of paper. The contents seemed innocent enough, nothing unusual or different. Carefully he placed each item back in the bag, flinching slightly at the chill that struck his fingers when he picked up the small piece of paper.

Pinching the paper between fore finger and thumb, L glared suspiciously at the innocent blank white surface. There was something not right with it, and considering what he had discovered thus far considering Kira, he knew that it might be an important though unlikely clue. Replacing all the items in the bag, L pocketed the small piece of paper and the mirror before withdrawing from the room to let the forensic team take over.

()

In the safety of his room at HQ, L took out the items he had taken from the crime scene. Once more the mirror was in his possession, tied to another death. Though such a theory could hardly be tested, it appeared almost as if the mirror brought misfortune and death to whoever possessed it. Following this line of thinking, by keeping the mirror in his possession, the detective himself might be beset upon by some nightmarish death.

It was foolish to think a mirror could bring forth such misfortune. Misa's suicide was not unusual or entirely unexpected at all. There had been some concern as to the models mental and emotional stability after Light's murder, but she had seemed to settle down after a couple of weeks. The stress of running away and avoiding capture may well have been the final catalyst to send Misa over the edge, enough for her to commit suicide. Or it may have been her original intention in running away. She most certainly would not have been able to do such had she still been under the careful watch of L and the other detectives. But then why did she not do it sooner? She had been missing for almost an entire week, but according to the hotel manager had been very much alive until about two days ago.

Perhaps she had lost her nerve, or she had wanted to do something, fulfil as task before committing suicide. There were many possibilities, but again L was reluctant to factor any of them.

Dangling the mirror upside down before him, L considered the object. The deaths of both Light and Misa shared a connection with this mirror. A violent death and a quiet suicide, two people suspected of being some of the greatest murderers in history. This mirror was what bound their deaths together.

L had always felt that the mirror was of some significance, that it held the answers to solving more than the mysteries surrounding Kira. Light had somehow managed to obtain a supernatural power and had wielded it with an obscure and twisted sense of justice. Misa had wielded it for selfish gain. And now another appeared to be wielding it for revenge.

How had Light come across this power, and how did Misa obtain hers? How did the mirror fit into all this?

There were so many questions, and no forthcoming answers.

Seeing as to the success of speaking with Light during sleep, L had tried to do so again over the last couple of nights but had failed. He slept, but there were no dreams. Light no longer bent the reality around him, did not visit him again waking or in sleep. There was still much that L would have liked to ask the dead genius, but it seemed to be impossible now.

Even thinking about his failure now, L felt that strange tug in his chest. Perhaps it was the loss of information or the loss of familiarity in interacting with the youth and the camaraderie they had shared. Yes, that painful little tug could have meant a great many things, but it was inconsequential to the case and so disregarded.

L was once more left in the dark with a vengeful Kira he had little interest in and a dead model to work around.

L stared gloomily at the far wall, mourning the information that Misa had taken to her grave. She had been the second Kira and had killed differently to Light; perhaps she had a different method of killing. Yet he could not know now, unless the third knew.

L blinked rapidly when an eye appeared in the wall where his gaze had been resting. He froze when a narrow emaciated face followed the eye; bone-white except for the purplish bruise coloured lips. The eye was centred on him and L could make out the cat like iris that fixed him with a cold stare. He could only watch as the monster emerged from the wall, stepping away and fully into the room.

The shinigami, for that was all name he could give it, watched him impassively as if weighing him up.

"You are L."

The creatures' voice broke through his shock, as did the statement. There had been no question as to his identity, the creature already knew, which did not come as a surprise at all.

"You are a shinigami." He countered childishly, watching the slow deliberate nod the creature gave.

There was silence once more as the two regarded each other. L knew that his social skills were lacking, but how did one talk to a god of death? This was one creature he was wary of offending, but treading carefully could work in his favour. It was L who broke the silence.

"You are the one who gave Kira the power to kill"

Rem could detect the almost accusatory tone in the human's voice as he spoke, seeming unafraid. He reminded her very much of Kira, this human's archenemy. Indeed the two were very much alike. Proud, deliberate, calculating and cold.

She shook her head negatively at the statement, to which the human looked surprised. She instinctively did not like this human and would not have elaborated further had the purpose for which she had come not weighed heavily on her mind.

"I was not the one to shadow Kira"

Understanding flooded the detectives eyes, as did calculation sharpen his gaze. He did not speak the deceased model's name, he did not need to. This creature was Amane Misa's shinigami, a creature he had never truly believed existed. Yes, he had taken Light's silence as an affirmative that one time when they had spoken, but the boy had not actually made any indication that it was true. Somewhere in the back of L's mind had always been that little drop of doubt in the existence of the supernatural.

Now face to face with such a creature, L had no choice but to believe.

"So there is another of your kind, am I correct?"

Again the shinigami nodded, but said no more and only watched.

"Who are you?"

"I am Rem"

"You gave Misa the power to kill."

The creature did not answer, nor indicate in anyway whether his statement was correct.

"How does Kira kill?"

The ghoulish apparition shifted slightly, though not in discomfort.

"You already know"

L cocked his head to one side, considering the shinigami.

"I had my suspicions, you say they are true…?"

The detectives' words were not aimed at Rem, but appeared to be spoken aloud and contemplatively as if merely to help along the detectives thought processes. Yes, Rem knew the detective knew or had an idea of Kira's power, but did he understand?

It was not because of Kira that she had decided to meet the detective. No, the purpose lay there on the table, the stench of death clinging to it. The human appeared to have noticed her shift in attention and was now observing the same object.

"Destroy it"

The shinigami's voice was grave and dark when those words were spoken, startling the detective somewhat. From the short conversation they had thus far, L concluded that Rem's voice was monotonous by default. To hear even such small inflection of emotion was strange.

L gazed down at the mirror once more, now sure that it was no ordinary object. What other reason would the shinigami demand it be destroyed for?

"The death of two Kira's are tied to this mirror. It has a purpose, a meaning, and until I can find what it is, I have no intention of destroying it."

Rem nearly bristled in rage at the human, so much like Kira that the familiar hate began to bubble forth. She did not like this human, but he was an important key to the events that were to follow. She had not expected the detective to comply with her request.

She observed him once more and came to a strange conclusion. Much like Misa had been held captive by her love for Light, so was the detective a captive to the deceased teen, L simply was not aware of it. Kira had spread his web carefully, and had snared his captives without their knowledge. His influence could be felt even in death, embodied in that small bronze mirror. Even now, in an unconscious gesture, L's thumb was stroking over the bronze surface as if taking comfort in it.

"It is the devil's mirror, and as long as you keep it, you will face the risk of loosing yourself."

**TBC**

**Review?**

**AN: Thought I might let this one out now as a kind of apology for being so slow. I am not entirely happy with this chapter as I feel it is a bit choppy and doesn't quite flow. However I am still posting it as I doubt I can make it any better without changing everything. Stuff should start picking up from here, and I suggest you take a note of the genre. There's a whole lot more supernatural to come, and hopefully Light will become a prominent feature soon. We can then get on to the excitement…Ta!**


	15. 15: Cursed?

**Chapter 15: Cursed?**

_Where he tread, the world swirled into existence. That which he left behind faded into nothingness, waiting to be called into existence once more. He had long since learned to accept such a concept, that his surroundings existed only by his presence and power alone. Beyond the door, there was nothing but a blank space, uncreated and unadorned. The scene behind the windows was but a mere image without depth, a scene of what had once been and was now denied to him. He had learned to accept this, but to experience it was a different fear._

_That moment between stepping out the door into nothingness and the moment when the new surroundings took form was a terrifying one. An experience that never ceased to chill his entire being._

_Taking a deep breath, the deceased teen stepped into the white expanse beyond the door. He felt as though he was falling, his heart skipping uncomfortably for a beat, before the world righted around him. The living area built on the memories of the investigation HQ, looked as inviting as any lifeless scene could be. It was as if a painting left out in the elements, the colour washed away by rain and bleached by the sun. Now there was only a faint memory of the colour it had usually possessed, a depressing reality._

_Perhaps one would have expected that he would be used to such a scene and would not have taken such a long moment to examine his surroundings. However Light had found that each time he entered a room, it contained a little less. As his mind was slowly left to decay in the boredom and isolation that caged him, so did his memory decay into nothingness. When the memory was gone, so then was the room as his surroundings indicated the state of his mind._

_To lose himself like this had birthed a terror so deep that he had been paralysed in a swirling mess of thought and emotion, afloat in the blank white sea. It had taken a mass amount of willpower to control the onslaught of fear, allowing the false world to take shape around him._

_By now he had come to accept the inevitable fate that awaited him, the insanity that was represented by the white expanse and the steady loss of identity. That did not mean that he would not fight to the very end, with what little power he had._

_It was when crossing the room that Light became aware of another presence, a small spark of life that was very much out of place. Nearing the source, he paused slightly at the sight that met him. In a rare moment of sleep, the detective lay curled on the sofa, arms wrapped securely around his legs._

_Light took the moment to examine the man before him, one whom had ceased to visit him a while ago and had left him here alone. He moved forward slowly until he was bent over the softly snoring detective. The same thin, sharp features of his 'friend' were relaxed in slumber, which gave him a more gentle appearance than was usual. Light could not help but drink in the very image of this infuriating man, the one prominent link to his life and the first living thing to come into contact with him in a very long time._

_Every curve and dip was memorised, the fall of hair and every visible vein mapped. Every imperfection taken note of and then, the very texture of the expanse of skin freely available. Light had let his fingers trail over the detective's cheek and was surprised at the heat that radiated off of him. Warm breath ghosted over his fingers as they neared the other's mouth, and again Light revelled in it. In the life it represented._

_How long had it been since he had any kind of human contact? The presence of another living being in a world that was dead?_

_He drank in the sight and the feel of the detective as though his life depended on it, only it was not his life that concerned him, but his sanity. _

_In the bleakness of his surroundings, L stood out starkly, unaffected and undrained of colour and therefore life. Was it therefore a surprise that Light could not tear himself away from the sleeping detective's side? Could he be blamed for the sudden selfish and desperate desire to keep the detective with him, even if against the dark haired man's will?_

_All he wanted was human contact._

_An anchor for his sanity and an end to his isolation._

_A companion._

_A friend._

_L._

_And Light always got what he wanted._

--()—

L was woken by the chilling cold touch at his cheek, frowning in wonder as sleep slipped away. Sitting up slightly, L examined the situation. The last he remembered was Rem-san's rather morbid warning before the Shinigami had faded away, leaving the detective to his own thoughts. He must have fallen asleep during his thought process, which was rather unusual. Looking down he found the source of the chill that had woken him.

Apparently during his nap, L had turned so that his cheek had come to rest on the mirror's chilly face. Touching the surface, L could detect a slight heat from where his cheek had been pressed against it before having woken up.

Staring contemplatively at the instrument of vanity, L banished the last tendrils of sleep and welcomed the onslaught of thoughts. The rather short conversation with the Shinigami Rem was at the forefront of his mind, as was the very mirror that rested in his grip.

'The devils mirror…'

That was what Rem had called it and considering the misfortune it seemed to have brought thus far, L concluded that such a title might have been well earned. From the Shinigami's expressions and unvoiced warnings, L could also conclude that keeping the mirror was hazardous to his continued health. Logic dictated however that such notions were impossible and foolish, mere superstition that worked on the power of suggestion.

Misa's suicidal actions were grounded on solid concerns, the possibility of her resorting to such measures well within the danger zone ever since Light's death. Her death was not suspicious at all, nor was the fact that the mirror which Light had supposedly given her had been clutched in her hands at the time of death. No doubt due to her belief that it was a token from Light, she would have taken comfort and possibly the strength to go through with her suicide from its mere presence.

No, logic could not accept the concept of a cursed mirror, nor of the existence of a god of death. So how then could Rem be explained, and the dreams of Light that had until recently haunted him?

'Well', said logic 'It is a mere product of a stressed and overworked mind. It was no secret that the detective worked long and irregular hours, consumed unhealthy quantities of sugary confections and generally kept company with no one but himself. Hallucinations, dreams, all manifestations of the mind.'

Then, how to explain the existence of Kira? A man capable of stopping the human heart without any contact with the victim and while being on the other side of the world. Alone and yet able to murder thousands with merely a name and a face. How could logic explain Kira?

It couldn't.

Kira existed, but he had used a weapon not made by human hands. Plausible to put the Shinigami as the mysterious designer of such a weapon. Taking that into consideration, that the weapon was not made by any natural force, meant that surely there would be a price to pay for it's use. Perhaps the deaths of Kira and Second Kira were brought on by their forbidden power, perhaps not.

Somehow amongst all this the mirror had woven itself into the web of death and deceit.

Destroy it the Shinigami had said, but how could he do that? There was the blood of one of the greatest killers in modern history in its make, the life of another. The devil's mirror, yes it was very aptly named.

With a soft sigh the detective stood, popping the bones in his shoulders and neck as he did so. Shuffling towards the kitchen, he only noticed the mirror was still in his grip when he made to open the fridge. Blinking at the cursed object he shifted his arm to the side in order to place it on the counter. Strangely enough, L found his fingers unresponsive to his commands to let go. It was as if his hand had ceased to be a part of his body and acted on it's own, refusing to relinquish its grip on the bronze handle.

Confused and battling with his rising temper, L tried to pry the mirror from his own grip but was unsuccessful. His fingers only curled tighter around the cursed object until his knuckles turned white from the force.

Never having lost control of his body in such a way, L stared dumbfounded at his own pale skinned appendage. The need for sugar slowly made itself known again, having been ignored in favour of this strange bodily rebellion. Needing a sugar fix, L swung open the fridge door and pulled out the whole of a cheesecake, not bothering to cut a slice before grabbing a spoon with his free hand and digging in.

Taking a seat at the table with the delectable dessert at his front, L studied the stubborn grip on the mirror. This was overstepping the bounds of 'normal' behaviour and he was unsure what to do in response. Slowly he let the mirror lie on the table and with much patiently controlled concentration pried his fingers loose.

The soft 'clink' as the handle dropped the short distance sounded loud in the quiet atmosphere of the room. Jerking his offending hand to his chest where he flexed his digits, L glared at the mirror in blatant distrust

Cursed indeed.

Grabbing hold of the cheesecake, L hurried out of the kitchen and seated himself on the couch. There he sat for a good hour, alternatively staring at his wayward hand and glaring at the kitchen door over the back of the couch.

It was still dark and would be another couple of hours before the Kira taskforce would arrive, leaving L alone with his thoughts for a while longer, he found himself wishing they would hurry up and be early for once.

It was as he turned to glare at the kitchen door once more that L noticed something wrong. A shifting shadow was visible from within the kitchen, visible only by the light that spilled from beneath the door. L knew well that he was alone in the building and that the only door leading into the kitchen was the one he was currently glaring at. Therefore no one could have entered the room or left without his knowledge, especially considering that he had been in the kitchen not an hour earlier. He would have noticed something amiss.

He was minded to ignore the brief glimpse of the shadow until he heard the scrape of a chair from within the kitchen. His body tensed at the sound, the breath catching in his throat. He listened for any further sound and was rewarded with soft scraping sounds, as if the chair was being steadily pushed across the kitchen's tiled floor.

With a new sense of fear and with adrenaline rushing through his veins, L stood and pulled a gun from a strategically placed hiding spot and aimed it at the kitchen door. The scraping noises did not subside, though they were irregular in their pace. Something was moving around in the kitchen, and though logic gave him many explanations for the sounds, L could think of only one thing.

He had left the mirror on the kitchen table.

**TBC**

**Spare a moment to Review?**

**Anyway, wow. 100 reviews? Not bad at all. Thanks to all you awesome readers ne! I'm sorry for the slow turnout of chapters, especially considering how fast I used to update when I first started this story. Wouldn't believe how much the storyline for this has changed from then to now and hopefully it remains as entertaining as ever. I can say we are moving into the second part of the story, so things will slowly start to change. Hopefully for the better. Again thanks to all the reviewers and readers!**


	16. 16: Bogeyman

**Chapter 16: Bogeyman**

It took some small amount of determination and the prodding of logic before L made any move towards the kitchen. Gun outstretched, the detective took careful and soundless steps. Whatever moved behind the door seemed unaware of his approach, the soft scraping never ceasing.

L hesitated at the door, unsure which tactic to use. Should he storm into the room or ease in? There was no telling whether the intruder was armed and dangerous or not. His left hand drifted towards the handle, every breath and motion carefully controlled in an effort to remain undetected for as long as possible. He paused a moment and thought. There were cameras placed in every room, and though no one was monitoring them at the present time, they were recording. If he could make it to the surveillance room quickly enough, he may be able to assess the intruder and find out what he or she was up to. However the intruder could escape in those moments that L was travelling between rooms, meaning that he could hide elsewhere or escape.

He pulled back slowly. It was best perhaps if he went to the surveillance room rather than risk his own safety. Whoever was in the kitchen seemed preoccupied with the chair, and besides, their face would be caught on tape so that even if he escaped they would be able to track the intruder down.

Just as L was about walk away the noise stopped. The sudden silence was almost deafening, L unconsciously holding his breath. He moved away from the door a few steps, never turning his back on the innocent rectangular wood. If the intruder were to storm out of the room, the last thing L wanted was to be hit by the door, the intruder or both. Gun levelled at the door L considered his options. He jumped when a loud crash came from within the kitchen, the sound of a chair hitting the floor. Silence followed the crash, which did little to ease the detective's high-strung nerves.

He expelled his breath softly and slowly, uneasy about breaking the silence. Finally he could take it no more and with one quick stride, grabbed the door handle and swung it open. The gun in his hand never faltered, yet the sight of an empty room met it.

L let his eyes scan the kitchen from his place by the door, looking for anything out of place. There were no obvious places to hide, the cupboards being too small to fit an average person comfortably. Unless the source of the noise was a person of small build, they would have had a hard time hiding themselves. Considering the period of silence, L deducted that the intruder would have had ample time to hide himself if that is what he did, but would have done so very noiselessly. Unless perhaps the crash was meant to disguise any sound made by the intruder just then.

L felt an unfamiliar cold thrill trailing down his spine, accompanied with a few fluttering beats of his heart. Stepping carefully into the room, L began making a round and pulling open all the cupboard doors. They all came up empty but for the various foodstuffs, the creak of the cupboard doors as they were opened the only sound.

Looking towards the table, L found the mirror to be exactly where he had left it. He had seen the shadow, had heard the scrape of wood on tile and yet there was no sign of the cause of either. The chair was lying on its back, proof that L had not imagined the noise at all.

After having gone through the kitchen once more, peering into every corner and under every surface, L came up empty handed. His tension did not ease but felt instead a prickling of the hairs at the back of his neck and arms.

He left the kitchen then, grabbing the mirror as he passed it and with long quick strides made his way up to the surveillance room. Watari was out on an assignment, so the room was empty and dark when the detective entered it. Feeling strangely reluctant to remain in the dark, he found the light switch and flooded the room with the artificial brightness. This strange and sudden aversion to the dark was certainly a passing thing, brewed by the recent and yet unexplained events. A normal reaction for any person surely.

Taking the main seat in front of the screens, he began the task of locating the correct video footage. The screen at his front lit up, the kitchen coming into focus. L took the moment to examine it before turning to the screen next to it. Here he rewound the recordings of the last two hours, centred on the kitchen.

L had no problems in watching both screens at once, having learned the art of such multitasking from a very early age. He paid particular interest to the footage showing his strange ordeal in the kitchen prior to the suspicious noise, watching his futile attempts to force the mirror from his own grasp. Blinking, the detective looked down at his left hand to find it clutching the mirror once more. He chose to ignore it for the moment in favour of watching the screens. He was in time to see himself fleeing the kitchen, the mirror lying innocently on the table. Glancing briefly at the screen showing the live feed from the kitchen, he turned his full attention to the recording. His back straightened in surprise at what he saw in the footage, large eyes widening further. Rewinding he watched the recorded events once more.

On the screen L was rushing out of the kitchen with his cheesecake in hand and leaving the mirror on the table. Not a few seconds later the chair toppled as if pushed by an invisible force, followed soon after by the detective throwing open the door with his gun drawn. All these events were as he remembered, except that according to the footage, they happened within seconds of each other. L knew for a fact that at least an hour had passed before he had become aware of the noise in the kitchen and about seven minutes between his hearing it, and entering the room. The recording was missing an entire hour's worth of footage, and the fact did not sit well with him.

Watari would find him going through the entire day's recordings a while later, and enquiring as to the detective's reasons for doing so received a vague mumbled reply that told him nothing and everything. L was making excuses for his reasons, his actions filled with subtle traces of agitation, but Watari did not press. L left the surveillance room then, as Watari settled back to his task of monitoring, discreetly taking the kitchen surveillance tapes with him.

L walked the hallways, unsettled with the morning's events. He made a beeline for the kitchen once more and found that Watari had been in there recently, if the sudden appearance of new confections and cakes were anything to go by. L had been so caught up by the missing footage that he had failed to keep an eye on the happenings in the kitchen. He berated himself for his actions and then grabbed a box of chocolates to console himself by.

The other detectives began arriving not soon after, their haggard appearance testament to their hard work and the stress of the case. Having grown familiar with the strangeness that was L, even they managed to pick up the agitation that rolled off the crooked man in waves. They knew immediately that his temper would be short and made a mental note to bother him as little as possible and only so when it was absolutely required. Aizawa however stepped forward catching the attentions of both L and the rest of the Task Force.

"We finished interviewing all the guests and staff at the hotel. According to their reports, Misa was seen returning to her room in the company of a man on the day of her suicide, and his leaving alone not soon after. We were given vague and somewhat varying descriptions of him, but they all agree on two aspects of the man's appearance, that he had short black hair and a sickly appearance. His age was estimated at around thirty-two. "

L's glassy eyes seemed to focus with this news, clearing a bit as the man pulled his ever-working mind to the discovery at hand.

"The forensics team are looking for any evidence by which to identify the man, though it may take a couple of days. I'll continue to interview friends and family of Amane-san to find out what connection she may have with this man and if they could possibly identify him."

L nodded after the man finished speaking, giving no further response. There was a moment of awkward silence as the detectives waited on L's orders. After a time, Mogi took the initiative and spoke carefully, his eyes warily placed on the eccentric.

"Kira has killed again, eleven dead in one night. All were criminals or had a criminal background."

L seemed to wake up from whatever stupor his mind had been in, opened his mouth as if to speak, frowned and closed it again. Instinct and habit had almost driven L to cast a snide remark at the quiet man for telling him something he already knew. Only, L had realised that he had indeed not known that Kira had killed again, and when he turned to his computer found the files containing the information to be unopened but waiting.

The morning's events had distracted him to such a point that he had had no time for thought on Kira, a fact that was mortifying in it's implications. The world's greatest detective sidetracked from an incredibly dangerous and certainly psychopathic mass murderer by imagined monstrosities and the bogeyman? How was he to command the respect of these men of justice when his actions belied his competence in handling the case?

Despite the bruising blow to his pride, L let nothing of his internal uproar show outwardly. To the other detectives, L displayed as stoic a façade as ever as he opened the awaiting files. He took a moment to scan through the details, mind already going over theories and trying to put pieces to the puzzle that was Kira.

He was relieved that no civilians had been targeted this round, but he knew that it was unlikely to be a one time event. It was only a matter of time until the new Kira once more let his power be unleashed on the unsuspecting population. He briefly wondered on the possibility of two new Kiras, one to replace each of the deceased. Even the signature 'tsuki' character did not guarantee the act of a single entity. The real question however was why Third Kira was killing criminals?

By killing civilians, L could deduce that this Kira did not care for the laws of justice but possibly killed for petty revenge. It was not justice that drove the Third, so why continue the First Kira's legacy? Perhaps it was a way of hiding himself, or even merging himself with the Kira known by the public in order to utilise the support that was already there. Why go through the process of creating a following from scratch when you could step in as the head of an existing one without them none-the-wiser for it? Or more simply, maybe Third Kira was trying to send a message through the massacre of innocents.

If DNA or any other evidence can be found as to the identity of this mysterious man, then perhaps L would finally be able to find and destroy Kira. Perhaps then these strange occurrences would fade and worry him no more.

At that his thoughts turned to Rem and he wondered why he had yet to see the Shinigami again. He had been under the impression that Rem had wanted to speak with him further, but she, if it could be called that, had been absent so far. L was a t once grateful and irritated by the creature's absence, for she held many answers. He could hardly call her or demand her presence however, and to do so would surely make a spectacle caught on tape. L was very wary of making the knowledge of the existence of Shinigami known to his underlings, even extending to Watari. The last thing he needed was people doubting his sanity, especially considering his increasingly strange and absent-minded ways.

Until the forensic results came through and possibly some helpful information from Misa's contacts, there was little they could do on the case. At least they had a lead and an unidentified suspect. If they would only be able to find the man's identity before Kira struck again, they may well be able to prevent another massacre of innocent lives.

**TBC**

**Review?**

**AN: I apologise for the delay of this chapter, and also for the lack of quality. I had plenty of time to write this, but it just wasn't getting down as I wanted it. It was really hard to write and after weeks of tweaking and changing, I accepted that this would have to be it. Hopefully the next chapter would want to be written and easier to write. And more interesting. Anyway thank you for the incredible reviews on the last chapter, you guys are awesome!**


	17. 17: Two sides of the Mirror

**Two sides of the Mirror**

The wind howled ceaselessly through the night, rattling against the windows and wheezing through any and all openings. It was unaccompanied by neither rain nor hail and yet was not robbed of it's savage fury by the lack thereof. In the half-light, the room was dressed in but faded grey, turning all it contained into barely visible mass and shape. There was no other sound but for the wind, no movement from within.

Only.

If he concentrated, if he strained to listen then…

There!

A soft, irregular sound that made sharp unpleasant prickles run up and down his spine. He could not imagine what the source of the strange noise could be and it was so very faint. He moved slowly, quietly, almost afraid to lose that soft sound. So he followed, though it proved to be difficult. He did not recognise his surroundings, this room he was in. The grey mass that he supposed was the furniture helped none at all in giving the room any identity.

Beyond the windows the storm had darkened the unfamiliar landscape.

Still, there was only one exit to the room, a dark gaping doorway that led into the unknown. He hesitated, afraid to step into the darkness and yet that sound drew him in.

There was no light beyond, and yet the barest of greys formed shapes that his mind could recognise. He appeared to have stepped into a corridor of unknown length. Shadowed doors periodically lined the walls, extending into the shadows and out of sight.

He tried the door closest to his right but found it locked. When he tried the other, he found the same result and with every other door following. He continued further down the corridor, listening and wary, the faint grey light from the door at his back slowly fading until he was left in complete and utter darkness.

Still he walked onwards, that soft persistent sound his only companion, growing neither more faint nor clear. Curiosity pushed at his heels, but it was an unknown need, a strange pull that dragged him deeper.

A soft, faint and cold breeze curled around him, stroking over his cheeks with icy fingers before drifting away, down the corridor. He shivered against its caresses, wondering at the source ahead of him.

When at last he reached the end he found another door, no greater nor worse off than any of the other doors he had passed. There was nothing different to it at all, a dark grey rectangular shape and nothing more. Yet there was a chill about it, that soft breeze seeming to creep from its edges. He took a moment to consider, reaching out and grasping the handle gently. It surprised him somewhat when it sagged against the weight of his hand, a soft click announcing that the door was unlocked.

A brief hesitation before he gently pushed the door in, faint grey light spilling at his feet. He did not enter immediately and instead questioned to himself this strange monochromatic grey that seemed to saturate everything. The gloom its presence permeated into his surroundings.

It was in that moment, between his thoughts that a new sound reached his ears.

A soft gurgling noise, fainter even than the sound that had brought him here.

A rustle of cloth.

A low hollow moan.

Stepping into the grey light, he found himself in a room he easily recognised. The curtains were pulled back from the open windows, and danced in that chaotic wind that swept in. Flashes of lightning bathed the room in various shades of grey, though rain had yet to fall.

The room was clearer to his eyes than the last, the dark wooden furniture heavy black shapes, softened by gentler white grey curves. The bed that dominated the room, the desk pushed to one side.

Empty bookcases bathed in stark shadows, stripped of purpose without books to fill it.

All this faded into the background, however, as his eyes fell on the figure kneeling on the floor.

Situated between the foot of the bed and the desk, the figure faced the windows, his back to the door. A boy, more a teen by what he could see, rocked slowly back and forth, arms tucked to his front and out of sight, kneeling in the typical Japanese fashion. The figure did not turn to him as he entered, rocking slowly with his head bowed as if unaware of his guest.

In the silence that separated them, he found that the teen was the source of the sound that had led him here, the soft gurgling that had met him at the door.

He stepped forward cautiously, unsure of the uncomfortable feeling rising through his chest and dropping to the pit of his stomach.

"Light-kun?"

His voice was a mere croak in the silence, raspy as though fallen in disuse.

The rocking stopped, thought the teen did not look at him nor acknowledge him in any other way. All sound had ceased but for the raging wind. Rain finally spattered against the window in a sudden heavy downpour that rattled the windows and gave rhythm to the silence.

The damp scent of rain crept into the room, as did the increased chill. He found himself shivering, though it was not from the cold alone.

He stepped forward slowly, eyes trained on the unmoving teen.

"Light"

He stood close, within arms length of the kneeling figure.

A soft gurgle.

Slowly that head turned, torso twisting as familiar brown eyes turned to look at him. Light's hands were clutching his throat, trails of black bleeding through his fingers and dripping to the floor where it slowly began to pool.

L took a step back in surprise, eyes drawn to those blood stained hands that tried in vain to stop the loss of life. Pained brown eyes watched him distantly as bloodied hands slowly lowered. L stumbled back further at the sight of that obscene wound, the jagged edges of torn skin, the wet black flesh exposed and the liquid that slithered from those horrid unnatural lips.

Light opened his mouth as if to speak, but all that came was a small trickle of blood creeping from the corner of his mouth. His back hit the wall, watching in horror as his friend slowly toppled to the floor and into the pool of blood. Curling in the foetal position, distant brown eyes never leaving his own.

With a gasp, L shot up from his chair, toppling it. He stood on shaking legs, his body hot and slick with sweat as he gasped frantically for air. As his heartbeat slowly started to ease into it's usual rhythm, L picked up his chair and settled therein. Pulling his knees up to his chest, he rested his forehead against them and closed his eyes.

Rational mind kicking in, L's thoughts strayed to the dream in order to analyse. L was no stranger to death nor murder. He had seen worse injuring than those of his deceased friend. Deaths more brutal than his friend had undergone. L was immune to it, that human part of him that could not understand bound and tucked away to avoid irrational and or emotional responses.

So why had the events of his dream, the sight of that wound scare him so badly?

It was entirely possible that the irrational fear was merely induced by the dream, a subconscious reaction amplified without the rules of reason to control it.

Calm now, L let out a small sigh as he looked up from his knees. The room was bathed in shadow, the blinding white background and the gothic L on the laptop screen the only sources of light. Looking at the clock, he found that it was scarce past three in the morning.

He had overslept.

Shaking the last tendrils of sleep and the last images of the dream from his mind, L turned to his laptop. Later that day, an important operation would take place and he was impatient for it. The forensic results had provided them with fingerprints, taken from the door handle and drawers.

Most of the prints weren't entirely clear, except for one, which was attained from the handle of the door. From what L could surmise, the mystery man had followed Misa into the hotel room and had let himself out, thereby leaving the prints. They could not be sure that this man was in any way connected to Misa's death or Kira considering his lack of expertise in committing crime and getting away with it, but he was a suspect none the less.

With the print they had managed to identify the man, tracking his actions and location. The man was identified as Miyagi Jirou, a twenty-seven year old janitor at one of the local schools. From his records, it appeared that Miyagi was unable to hold down a solid job due to continued illness and periods of unclaimed leave where he simply failed to show at work. Looking at the profile picture, L could clearly see why so many people had mistaken him for being older. Miyagi Jirou was younger than he looked which was probably due to his illness. Strangely enough there were no medical records mentioning whatever sickness Miyagi had – seeming to have avoided medical attention for the last two years.

He was describes as a polite enough man, and his school records indicated an average intelligence. He was not part of any clubs or social groups and was described as reclusive and isolated.

L had no problems believing this man could commit murder, but it seemed strange pinning any of the Kira murders on him. Perhaps he was a fan of Amane Misa, had followed her home and killed her. Perhaps he was guilty of only that, meaning that Kira had no hand in this one. Regardless L was not about to take chances.

Aiber and Wedy, having been summoned earlier and yet unneeded thus far were now to take on new roles. Simple enough – Wedy was to install cameras in Miyagi's apartment. Due to their suspect's tendency towards erratic behaviour, they would have Aiber on stand by to delay the man should he for any reason deviate from his schedule and return home before the thief could finish her job.

It was an easy task, one that didn't make full use of Wedy or Aiber's talents. If, however, some proof or cause for further investigation could be attained through surveillance, they may well be needed in more important roles.

L stood and ambled over to a clear place on the floor. Seating himself comfortably and folding his legs, L allowed himself to ease into meditation. He was impatient for events to get going, irritable for the strange nightmare that had disturbed his short sleep and wanted nothing more than peace for a moment's time.

-(O)-

_Curled on is side with the wind sweeping over him, Light stared at the spot where L had stood not a few minutes before. He swept his eyes briefly over his grey surroundings before returning to that one spot, eyes curious._

_He had not expected to hear his name being called and had thought it the mocking cry of the wind. When his name had been called again, much closer and louder than before, Light had looked. Ignoring the dull throb of severed nerve-endings at his throat he had turned to look behind. Against the faded background of their surroundings, L had stood out like a sore thumb._

_The darkness of his hair and the whiteness of his shirt, such contrast he had never truly perceived. Even the faded blue of the detective's jeans had been almost painfully bright and different. He had started to forget that colour even existed, and that moment of colour had been…fascinating in truth._

_The sight of L had surprised him, so much so that he had forgotten for a moment the task of his hands. It had taken a moment to recall the other's name, that simple letter that had plagued him for so long._

'_L'_

_He could not quite understand why his voice would not work, why that simple letter could not be uttered, and it was only as that thick cold liquid bubbled in his throat that he remembered. His hands had dropped from his throat, blood trailing sluggishly from the wound, chilling his already cool skin further. He had forgotten about it. Exhaustion hit him then, as he knew it would, and he let himself slowly curl up on his side. Through all this he had watched that pale face with the coal black eyes, watched as the surprise in them changed to horror._

_Strange._

_The detective was gone as if he had never been there, leaving Light to stare at an invisible spot on the wall. When he let his eyes fall, he could make out the faint outline of an object where L had once stood. A faint trace of curiosity filtered through his mind, though he did not move. Instead he waited for this memory to pass, having experienced it at various times during his solitary existence._

_He knew the memory had something to do with his death, but even now the details were starting to fade with his mind. His throat had been cut, yes, that much he could remember. But why? By whom?_

_It no longer mattered, and so the memory faded but for that last fragment. Those last blood-filled moments._

_When at last the strength began to return to his limbs, as the blood faded beneath him into non-existence, Light finally sat up. He moved forward sluggishly, crawling and dragging himself on hands and knees, swaying tiredly but determinedly. _

_There._

_A mirror._

_Picking up the object, Light stared at it blankly for a moment. Something about this mirror stirred thoughts in his head, strange feelings he could not name. Examining it's surface he found two western style demons gripping the glass, barbed vines twisting around to the back where they curled around a pair of dismembered hands. A human heart was clutched in each hand, droplets of blood watering the vines below._

_Once the sight of something so gruesome and crude would have inspired in him nothing but scorn. Now it inspired nothing more than a passing interest. Looking into the mirror, Light found nothing reflected therein. Not his face, nor his surrounding, Nothing but a blank white slate. He was about to drop the object, bored with it already when the image changed, Light finding himself suddenly staring up into the face of L._

_L seemed not to notice the sudden scrutiny with which he was observed, as dulled brown eye regaining some of their light._

_Interesting._

-(O)-

Wide blank eyes stared at the screen in front of him with something akin to interest. Wedy had mentioned the strange state of Miyagi's apartment, but it was still a surprise when seeing it for himself. It resembled a cave more than an apartment, black covers drawn over windows and draped over the mirror. There was no light permitted, even the light socket's kept empty. The furniture was spartan and bare, practical and hard. There were no personal items, photographs or any signs that anything human resided there, nothing that gave any of the rooms life.

It was yet empty, Miyagi Jirou having not yet returned. Wedy had managed without a single hitch, subtly grumbling how someone of her skill level were better suited to harder tasks. She finished her job with time to spare and no complications, and that was all that L cared for.

He had briefly considered getting an agent to search the place but had decided against it. He wanted to see how Kira killed, and if this man was he then nothing could be gained in alerting him to their attentions before the right time. They needed proof; they needed to catch him in the act of killing.

A soft click alerted L that the apartment owner had returned. Miyagi Jirou stumbled in, looking very much harassed and ill.

L watched on alone.

**TBC**

**Review?**

**AN: I hope this chapter was more interesting than the last, and not too confusing or disjointed. I'm also trying to speed up the events just a little as I seem to be dragging this out a little thin. My apologies if you feel I am moving too fast.**

**Light will be taking on a more active role in the from the next chapter or two, in which case we will have more and more L - Light interactions.**

**As always, comments and reviews are greatly appreciated. This fic appears to be very popular (to my standards at least) and I do try and keep it fun and interesting. To know I succeed is encouraging, and knowing what I did wrong or should look out for is helpful.**

**Till next time!**


	18. 18: Ensnared

**Ensnared**

Jirou leaned heavily against the door for a moment, catching his breath and calming his battering heart. The heavy silence that blanketed his apartment was a strange but welcome change from the noise and bustle of the streets, Jirou embracing the cool shadows that clung to his fevered skin. Licking dry chapped lips, he made his way clumsily to the kitchen. Looking through the cupboards he pulled out a cup of instant noodles before turning to boil the kettle. He was not hungry and the food was terribly bland, yet even he recognised the importance of taking in substance other than coffee.

Going through the process of making coffee and then his quick dinner stilled his shaking hands and returned strength to his laden limbs. He took his time, as he always did, and allowed the mess of thoughts in his head to calm. Names, faces – fragments of noise and the lingering impressions of touch. He allowed it all to filter away, except for the names and faces of those precious few who would die that night.

He brought the black liquid to his lips and took a long deep swallow of the bitter concoction. The liquid burnt his tongue and the inside of his cheeks, but he paid no mind to the pain. Taking both coffee and food with him, Jirou sought the comfort of his sanctuary once more. He let his eyes roam around the room once and was satisfied to find no Shinigami in sight. Truly Ryuk was more an annoyance than he could handle, and with the stress of his day not entirely worn off would have only upset him more.

Putting his coffee on the desk, he sat down and leaned back. He sat like this for a few minutes; head tilted back and eyes closed – recalling what he needed to know.

Reaching to the side, he gently pulled the drawer open and extracted the cursed book from within. Running his fingers over the black covers, he slowly opened the Death Note to a pristine white page. Looking at the untainted purity of that white page and knowing the price of the sin of marring it, Jirou once more wondered at the strange and terrifying circumstances that had brought it to him.

Setting the Death Note open in front of him, he took up his pen and slowly began to write. How long he sat writing he could not tell and he only leaned back when the task was finished. Written in a careful bold and ultimately beautiful hand were the names of thirteen individuals. Some were criminals while the rest were those Jirou had seen fit to erase from the world. Really, it did not matter to him for they all had sinned.

He shivered as the air cooled due to oncoming night. Again the oppressing darkness began to creep in, the anxiety and fear with it. How long did he have to suffer this way? How long until he himself was free from the shadow that was slowly consuming him. A prickling sensation at the base of his neck alerted him to another presence, and he turned his head to greet it.

Instead of the Shinigami Ryuk, Jirou found himself staring at the skeletal Rem instead. Another whose presence he felt he could not endure, more so than Ruyk. The apple-loving Shinigami was a nuisance, his motives hidden by declarations of boredom but relatively unthreatening, Rem however, had a cold intensity about it that was threatening in every way. Rem did not look kindly on him but with extreme dislike shadowing her stoic countenance.

"So, you're back"

He looked away from the Shinigami's cold gaze with an attitude of dismissal.

Rem did not answer, which he did not care for anyway. Rem rarely showed herself to him unlike Ryuk, which was a blessing of sort, and he did not care to know where she chose to spend her time. Standing, he felt a tightening in his chest, a moment of breathlessness as his lungs were choked. Staggering back and taking hold of the chair to steady himself, the world slowly righted and stilled below him.

Dread curled around his chest like ice, a sensation as he experienced only once in his unfortunate life. Rem was gone, faded into the shadows and leaving him alone in a sanctuary that was now just another room.

-()-

_His footsteps made no sound and did absolutely nothing to ease the silence that filled the room almost to the point of suffocation. He noted distantly that while the dimensions of the room were spacious, precious little of it was discernible. The edges faded into a slowly growing expanse of white, the window showing the torment beyond seemingly at odds now with the reality. Casting his eyes through the little available space he finally found the huddled figure of one Yagami Light._

_The youth was curled in on himself, back resting against what remained of the wall and seemed oblivious as to his approach. Drawing nearer he found that Light was staring avidly into the depths of a small mirror. _

_Amused, he seated himself beside the boy and leaned back casually. There was a period of silence, Light's eyes not once leaving the mirror and whatever it showed._

"_Who are you?"_

_The question was asked in a voice that was thin with disinterest, a mere passing thought as though he did not care for the answer._

"_I am the owner of the mirror in your hand."_

_Again there was silence, though he was graced with the brief glance of caramel before the boys gaze fell once more to the instrument of vanity. Leaning over, he glanced at the surface in order to learn what had captivated the younger one so._

"_Ah"_

_He pulled back with a small smirk, amusement and expectation stirring up his blood. This new find could be worked into his plans to his own benefit. He spared another glance around the room. He was not surprised that Light's mind was fading and unravelling as quickly as it was. Without any mental stimulation, social interaction or purpose, Light could not function as he should and suffered more greatly the effects for the lack thereof. Boredom was like a disease that ate at his mind, his purposeless existence an incurable malady. It was no surprise then, considering what he knew, that the boy would form an obsession with the man in the mirror._

"_You can have him you know."_

_Finally Lights attention shifted fully from the mirror to his strange and unknown companion. They stared at each other which led the other and much older of the two to come to another realisation. Light's face reflected a childlike innocence and want that was belied by the fierce hunger and intensity of that molten gaze. The single-mindedness that the boy displayed would be a formidable force to contend with and he was glad therefore that it was concentrated on such a favourable target._

"_How?"_

_Light was sitting straight now; unnerving gaze firmly concentrated on the one beside him. He received a smile in answer, a wicked smile that held no friendliness but much amusement and glee. For a moment he came to recognise something in the unnamed's face, a familiarity about it as though he had seen it before. Try as he might though, he could not recall as to why._

-()-

L balanced precariously on the edge of his seat, eyes riveted on the screen. A multitude of screens showed him every room in Miyagi's small apartment; each viewed from at least four different angles. There were only four rooms, so L was easily able to keep watch over all the rooms at all times. It was merely to insure that he would not miss even a single second between switching cameras.

He had watched as the suspect had gone about making coffee and a less than healthy dinner before retiring to a room that should have been the bedroom but was furnished as a study. Come to think of it, there was no bed anywhere in the apartment, as if that too was too much an item of comfort. The harshness of the furnishings revealed something of the character of this Kira. The austere quality of life he led undoubtedly translated into what he looked for in judging victims. Since that terrible day when thirteen innocents had been found dead, Kira seemed to have opted for a mix of criminal and innocent lives. He had found that most victims that did not fall under the category of criminal had come from at least well-to-do families. Obviously against his ideas of self-discipline and the like, which he appeared to apply even to himself, all others were at fault with others even more so.

He watched intently as a notebook was placed on the desk, nearly blending into the shadows due to the blackness of its covers. He leaned forward a little more, his nose nearly touching the screen. He felt the chair shift beneath him, but he remained balanced and had yet to meet the floor.

There!

He could just barely make out the writing on the cover before the notebook was flipped open.

Death Note

How appropriate. He had suspected that Miyagi Jirou was Kira but had neither proof nor solid reason for it but for Misa's death. However, what need would anyone have of a book of death? Considering his own conclusions that the weapon was a notebook or book of some sort, his suspicions were now only firmly set.

He watched, though he could not see what was being written, hunched over the book as Miyagi was. L was pretty certain that he knew what was happening though. Miyagi must be writing down the names of his victims. There was no tv, nor newspaper or any source of information from which he would get the names and faces of criminals. Most likely then, he memorised the details while out and about.

All this was only speculation thus far, off course, but L had the feeling he was getting close.

He blinked wide eyes when a familiar creature slipped from the shadows, his suspecting noticing the same. He watched the short conversation that followed with fascination, a strange giddiness at having found Kira tingling down his spine. Rem's appearance confirmed it.

Miyagi Jirou was the Third Kira.

The killing weapon was a black notebook named a 'Death Note'.

But had he killed either Light or Amane Misa?

He needed more evidence though. He would make sure to run a check on all the victims and have one of his agents discreetly tail the Kira. Find out how the victims were chosen and possibly why.

A flicker of movement to his side caught his attention just as Jirou stumbled from his chair. Turning his gaze reluctantly, he found that the movement had come from the screen showing the bathroom. It was empty, most surfaces draped in black cloth.

He watched with mixed feelings as the cloth began to ripple with movement as though something moved beneath it. It bulged and pulled, brief impressions of hands sliding beneath. It was all so very unnatural and impossible, something not unlike from a horror movie. L found himself tense, uncertain what to make of this strange new event.

Something brushed against his shoulder, his balance was lost and the chair tipped. Spinning round by instinct, his foot connected with something solid and the grunt of surprise that followed revealed that it was human too. Before he could get a proper glance at his visitor, a fist connected with his cheek in all too familiar a way.

Stunned by the revelation of that familiarity he did not retaliate and was rewarded with the sight of one irritated Light. Surprise made him blink owlishly, his mind grasping as to whether this was another one of 'those' dreams. Light was rubbing his side absently, his eyes boring into L's own in a predatory gaze that was Kira-like in its intensity but without the malice in their depths.

He had hit and been hit by the youth in front of him who was by all means dead. Looking around he found none of the common signs he had learned to expect from his dreams. The colours were not faded and the sounds of traffic and life could be distantly heard. He felt no different and surely he would not have fallen asleep with such an important event happening.

Light straightened, both hands hanging at rest by his sides. His gaze never once left the detective crouched but a few feet away. There was something very unnerving in the younger's eyes but L did not back down. His own gaze narrowed slightly when the other walked forward, slowly standing up so that he was face to face with his 'friend'.

Something was wrong and all his instinct screamed at him to get away from a situation he was not sure he could fully grasp. He wanted to reach forward and touch the brown-eyed boy if only to ascertain to himself that he was really standing before him. Only there was an air of possessiveness and danger – a sense of wrongness around his friend that stayed his hand and made him wary.

Light had no qualms whatsoever and reached for the detective, L tensing as though ready for a strike. He started when Lights hand grasped a handful of his hair, tugging lightly on it before letting go and sliding his hand further down. Long tanned fingers skimmed down the side of the stunned detective's face and neck, brown eyes following the trail of his fingers with that same strange intensity. It was almost as though Light himself was trying to prove that the detective was physically present.

The other's hand fisted the front of his customary white shirt and pulled the detective roughly forward. Unprepared, L stumbled and collided with Light who captured him with his arms even as the both fell, and kept falling.

A moment of disorientation made his stomach drop unpleasantly, and when finally they hit the floor, the impact jarred his senses back into him. Untangling himself from Light's arms he sat up and found to his astonishment that he was no longer in the surveillance room – a dream then. Only this dream seemed different to any other he had yet had concerning the brown haired teen next to him.

L looked quickly to his companion who had yet to move. He found his gaze ensnared once more by the dark golden eyes that he was so familiar with. Light was slightly curled on his side, facing the detective and head tilted slightly back as he regarded L with an unreadable expression. His once neat hair now splayed around his face messily and somehow gave him the appearance of something yet untamed – wild. Despite the control still used in that unreadable expression, it was not the same Light he had known in life. A less refined version of him.

Blinking, Light reached out once more and wrapped his arms around the detective's waist. Though the hold was loose, L found it a constricting embrace and tried to escape it.

"I would much appreciate it if Light-kun would allow me to get up."

Light made no move to release the detective and simply kept on staring at his rival without so much as an indication that he had heard L's request.

L shifted uncomfortably, aware of the tightening hold that pressed the detective's hip against the other's chest. The molten eyes now looked up at him through dark lashes and stray strands of hair, which stirred another strange feeling into the uncomfortable pit that was his emotions.

He quickly scanned his eyes around the room in an attempt not to be caught in those eyes again. The room was bare, cold stone making up the floors and the walls. A single large window stared out into a stormy scene, lashed by wind and rain. There were no visible doors, no way of entering or going as if they were stuck in a box.

L stood quickly which gave Light no other option than to withdraw his arms. Light made no indication of anger, annoyance or hurt but remained lying on the floor, staring up at the detective with mystified eyes. L stepped away from the prone figure of his friend, uncertain now as to the sanity of his companion.

He made a round of the room, checking for any signs of a trap door. He did this not so much as to find a path of escape as to give him a reason for not looking at Light. It also allowed him to think, although the gaze that followed him seemed to enforce the sense of claustrophobia that was worming it's way into his mind and threatening to collapse all trails of thought. This dream was starting to take on the qualities of a nightmare without the presence of any visible danger – except that is, for Light.

Seeing no way out of this situation until he woke, he slowly took a seat against the wall, well away from his deceased friend. Light had finally sat up sometime during his exploration and was now staring at him with a self-satisfied smirk now on his lips. L felt somewhat relieved to finally see something of the old Light even as he grew wary of the familiar smirk.

"Light-kun looks very pleased with himself" he ventured cautiously.

"Hm"

That was all answer he got. Not the eloquent speech of Light, nor the gloating of Kira. Just a soft pleased little sound.

L now took it on himself to stare back at Light, unwavering in his own gaze. L was good at staring, it was second nature to him and few could hold it for long. However it seemed death had rid the youth of any insecurities, secrets and lies that would have made him squirm beneath the detective's gaze. So they sat and stared at each other.

Two enemies.

Two friends.

Two halves from the same mould.

Only the howling wind and the pattering rain filled the silence, Light quite content to watch the detective and L wary glaring at the object of his discomfort. The pleased look was still on the other's face though L was surprised to see tension slowly leaving the other's form. He had not been aware that Light was as tense as he, and as brown eye slowly slid shut in slumber, Light's whole body relaxed and curled on the floor once more.

The storm beyond the window died down, leaving complete silence in its wake. Beams of grey light gave a new luminous atmosphere to the room, though it did little to warm it. If only he himself would wake. L was rapidly growing tired of the grey of his surroundings, the emptiness and lack of control. Above all, he hated the boredom that began to creep in.

He shivered and huddled in on himself, thumb resting on his lips as he watched the only thing of interest. He took to examining Light then, the greying pallor of his skin and the dulling of once shining hair. The clothing he wore was simply and comfortable, though as monochromatic as the room, a white button-up shirt and dark slacks. His feet were surprisingly bare and the shirtsleeves were folded up to his elbows.

There was a gauntness to his limbs that could have been from various reasons, and that was perhaps why his eyes were so unnerving. Light's eyes were still that golden brown, bright against the desolate atmosphere and untouched by shadow.

This creature that slept so fitfully in this horrible prison was not the Light he knew and L felt himself saddened by it. The loss of that arrogant and prideful being was a tragedy that was surprisingly hard to swallow. Death – which came to all things, but to see Light wasting away into a creature he could not recognise, was the most painful truth. Perhaps this was the price of being Kira, the price of murder.

**TBC**

**Review?**

**I have no excuses. All I lacked was the drive to write. Hope you enjoyed this chapter.**


	19. 19: Renegade

**Renegade**

L sat for an undetermined amount of time, wishing, waiting to wake up from this nightmare. Light slept peacefully but a few feet from him, at ease in this lacklustre setting. He had watched his friend for a long time, examined his appearance and strange behaviour. How though could one explain the reasoning and actions of the deceased? How could he accurately examine the youth's actions when so many unknown and impossible factors came into play?

Standing up to the noisy clicking of bones, the detective ambled towards the window, intent on finding relief from the encroaching boredom.

The storm had yet to unleash its fury once more, silenced and calmed, heavy clouds that suffocated the sky. Beyond the window, L could see the skeletal forms of towering buildings, dulled windows reflecting the grey light. Below the streets trailed of into shadows, deserted of life.

There was no movement, no sign of life, but this did not surprise the detective. This was not the domain of the living after all, and even though he kept to the theory that this was a dream, he was not so foolish as to dismiss any others. He had been awake and very much alive before Light had kidnapped him.

L blinked at the thought.

That was indeed the scenario. Light had dragged him here without his consent, and was perfectly comfortable with the knowledge that he could not escape. Comfortable enough to sleep. There was no fear as to L's reactions, no matter how negative or physical he was likely to become. L had a tighter grip on his emotions than the volatile Light, but the detective was pretty much backed into a corner.

Another thought arose; Light was dead and yet L had managed to land a blow on Light and from the other's reaction, it had done some damage. Light in his deceased form no longer had the novelty of a physical body, so how was it that his blow had landed? How was it even possible for Light to bodily drag him anywhere?

There was a lot to think over and the monotonous scene provided little distraction and much opportunity for thought.

He turned and surveyed the room once more, gaze coming to a stop on a door that had most certainly not been there mere moments ago. Plain wood, silver handle and as unimpressive and worn as the settings in which it was created. Casting a curious eye to the slumbering teen, he cautiously made his way to the newly acquired door. He stood within reach of the handle, contemplating the possible repercussions of opening it.

It was the nagging sense of boredom that decided him. The door swung inward with a long low groan and looking back, L was relieved that Light showed no signs of waking. Beyond the doorway extended a hallway drenched in shadow, much like the one he had found himself in, in his most recent dream. He stepped forward with some amount of caution but little hesitation. The door swung shut behind him of its own accord, reminiscent to the cliché element of horror films.

Feeling very much as though he was actually in some cliché horror film, he advanced. There were no doors along the hall, but it split off into to different directions at the end. Once more wondering whether he had made a wise choice, L turned his head in both directions. Nothing could be seen down either direction, so he chose one at random and proceeded down it.

There was a door at the end of the hall he had walked down, similar to the one that had appeared in Light's room. Opening it, L stepped into a large circular room. Mirrors, instead of stone made up the walls, an unidentifiable source of light illuminating the room.

Much to L's fascination, he found that his own image did not reflect in the mirrors. The room remained empty in their faces, a thousand other reflections in their depths. He almost reached out to touch one of the mirrors when the reflection changed.

Looking into the mirror, L came face to face with Light.

-()-

Light's eyes fluttered open, just as the door closed with a soft 'click' behind the detective. Blinking, his eyes stared into the distant landscape beyond the window. It was the first time in a very long time that the storm had ceased it's howling; though it loomed heavily in the sky still. Scanning the room, he found himself alone once more.

He sat slowly and glanced at the door, knowing that it had not been there before and that it was through there that his friend had escaped to. Stretching slowly, Light basked in the contended and well-rested feeling. He had not slept so comfortable in any time that he could remember, not that he could remember all that much.

A familiar weight settled into his hand, his fingers automatically grasping it so that it would not fall. Looking curiously into the mirror he watched as a somewhat familiar face came into view. He could not recall the elderly gentleman's name, though he knew that it was an acquaintance of L.

"_Ryuuzaki?"_

That name, so distantly uttered, brought a smile to the brown-eyed boy's face. This man was obviously looking for the detective, but L belonged to him now, and Light was not going to give him up. Not even the growing fear in the elder one's face would have him change his mind. The elder one moved closer to the mirror, Light's watchful eyes on him despite the odd angle. It had been somewhat disconcerting and amusing when he had first looked into the mirror to find himself looking up into the face, or chin rather, of the dark haired detective.

His eyes caught startled grey as young and old's gazes met. Light felt himself smile smugly at the surprise and horror in the other's gaze before laying down the mirror. Casting away thoughts of the old man in the mirror, Light finally stood and stretched once more. It was probably time to go find his friend, which should be fun considering he had no idea what was beyond the doors. All he knew was that L was somewhere and he now had something to do in looking for the stray detective. A purpose, challenge and a reward – how long since he had enjoyment such as this?

When he stepped through the door, it was to a hallway lined with mirrors, their reflections dull in the darkness. Stepping cautiously, he turned and faced one of the mirrors, and stared. Surrounded in a sea of black stood the man whom had given him the secret to the mirror. Copper hair gleamed red, though there was no light, and red eyes stared from the hollow shadows of his eyes.

Again that sense of familiarity, the knowledge of the identity of that face. He raised his hand to his face and let the fingers brush over his cheek. As he suspected, so did the image in the mirror. But that did not make sense. He was staring at the image of the man whom had claimed ownership of the mirror that had made it possible to bring L to him. But if the image was his own, then this could not be possible.

If only he could remember. How long had he been in this silence? How long had he lived in unbroken solitude?

Could it be perhaps, that there was another 'him' lurking around?

He was surprised to 'feel' anything at the thought.

Amusement.

Uncertainty.

Scorn.

Something inside him found the idea funny, while he stood wavering on the edge of uncertainty. He could not remember, and that alone was a frightening thing. He had not cared before that he could not recall anything past the moment. All that had existed was the present, with no thought to the future and no knowledge of the past.

But he could not remember whether there was supposed to be another 'him', and that made him nervous. But still some part of him, smaller than all the rest stood aloof within his own psyche, oozing silent scorn. Its contempt was oddly comforting.

His attentions were drawn outward again when his reflection, for that is what it was, leered at him unpleasantly. That was not right, reflections were meant to duplicate, not act or do any different. Well, Light was pretty sure that he was not leering, indeed he was almost sure that he was frowning instead.

His reflections seemed to understand his thoughts and as if to mock, took running down the hall, slipping from mirror to mirror with ease. Shocked, Light could only stare after it before a sense of foreboding began to take him. The face of his dark-haired friend came to mind, and in a moment's panic, he too ran.

For some reason it seemed essential that he reach L, before the other 'him' did. Why the other would be after L, and why he feared that he would reach him first, Light could not quite fathom. Instead he concentrated on running, his eyes trained on his fleeing reflection.

L was here somewhere and Light would find him.

He had lost sight of his renegade reflection, but he kept on running until at last he came to the end of the hallway. A door blocked his path, it's surface as reflective as any mirror. Despite this, Light found no reflections staring back at him. He considered this for a while, but then he was not surprised. His reflection had decided to run away from him after all.

And with that reminder, Light eased the door open and stepped into the room. His first thoughts were for the detective whose back was facing him. Then came thoughts for the smirking figure of the mirror's owner.

-()-

Quillish Whammy had spent over a decade overseeing, guiding and aiding the world's greatest detective. In those many years he had come to see many strange things. Crimes that were out of the ordinary – mysterious and unsolvable, by society's standards at least. As L's spokesperson 'Watari', Mr Whammy had had the privilege to observe and nurture one of the most fascinating and brilliant minds of the age.

With such genius, Mr Whammy had been well aware that there would be some eccentricities involved with regards to his charge. Thankfully it was hardly a burden to cater to the boy's needs; sweet things were always available in some shape or form after all. And in all these years of partnership, Mr Whammy had come to see L as the son of his heart.

So when 'Watari' had stepped into the observation quarters and found no sign of L, a peculiar fear had taken hold. The fear of a parent for their child. L had not gone into the outside world since Light's death but for the few crime scenes he had insisted to personally examine, so L's absence was definitely out of the ordinary. Had L decided to leave HQ for any reason, even if only to buy cake from a local bakery, he would have left a message for his guardian. This was to ensure that should anything happen to L, that Watari would be able to take action promptly, or at least not stress out and cause potential conflict to any of L's plans.

After scanning through every camera angle with no sign from L, Watari decided to investigate. Before he had left, L had already been keeping an eye on their new suspect. The camera feed was still running on the missing detective's computer, a clear indication that L had been interrupted during his vigil or had intended to return to it.

With a heart burdened with fear for his charge, Watari made his way to L's monitoring station. Indeed there was no sign of L; the cameras were not lying.

Mr Whammy moved closer to the monitor screen, his eyes captured by the image portrayed therein. The suspect's apartment was empty, puddles of black cloth strewn over the floors in every room. Grey plaster walls were revealed with the loss of the black drapery, the apartment looking more neglected than before. Stripped bare. The door to the outside world swayed slowly back and forth with the wind, open to any that would enter.

There was something not right about the scene, something that dragged unpleasantly against the elder one's senses. A flicker of movement made him turn his head, his gaze coming to rest on the little mirror that had recently never left the detective's side.

Mr Whammy had seen many strange things in his service to L, but nothing could compare to what he saw in that mirror. An all too familiar face looked back at him, golden brown eyes that held the glint of madness regarding him from the reflective glass. There could be no mistaking of the smug smile on the young man's face.

His wizened heart pounded uncertainly in his chest, stealing his breath until he grew faint for want to breathe.

The handsome face of the devil faded from the mirror, but the message had been received. He could not answer how, when or even why. But he knew that the grinning face of Light Yagami had something to do with L's disappearance. L had been spirited away by the deceased, an unfortunate fate surely.

Struggling to get a hold of himself, Mr Whammy fought for reason. It was not the time to jump to conclusions, and even if it was that L was dead to them, it was to him that the task of resurrecting L would fall too. Only, Mr Whammy could not find in himself the confidence to appoint any of the young geniuses to the lofty title of the world's greatest. He would give it five days. Five days to try and get to the bottom of L's disappearance. Only after then would he return to the orphanage.

-()-

It was an indescribable pleasure to stand in the presence of the rising sun. Like a blind man able to see for the first time, released from the darkness into a world of colour. Wind curled around his form like a lover's caress, the air sweet in his mouth.

Gazing down at the pitiful souls at his feet, scuttling around in the shadows of their empire, blissfully unaware of his very presence, he smiled. Millennia – he had worked towards this one moment. Had toiled and suffered for the taste of freedom. Freedom which he had gained at last, and to think that it had all been possible through the one act of boredom on a shinigami's part.

With the world at his feet, within reach at last, he could finally do as he had only ever dreamed. The world was his for the tacking. A plump, ripe and fattened fruit for his pleasure, food for his viscous appetite.

He grinned as he spread his arms wide, welcoming the sun and the dawning of the new day. He threw back his head and let out a soft bark of laughter.

The world was his.

**TBC.**

**Review!**

**I find it impossible to write longer chapters, I truly struggle with it. So once again I apologise for the briefness of the chapter. After waiting so long I feel terrible giving you so little. Also, I have made a promise to myself to finish this story if no other's, so you don't have to worry about me dropping it. I merely procrastinate and struggle with bouts of uninspiration.**

**One last thing, I would like some indication as to whether the story is still enjoyable. I will admit that I feel under some amount of pressure to please the numerous readers whom have taken an interest in the story, and if people are losing interest, I can gear towards improving it. I ask merely as a favor, so no pressure. I will continue writing regardless. I am not in the habit of replying to reviews, but if you would like a response, let me know and I'll be happy to answer.**

**Ta.**


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